Sinners redeemed
by mellyb6
Summary: Aramis tries to come to terms with his dangerous situation now that the Dauphin is born. At the same time, Captain Tréville sends his Musketeers to accompany his nephew to Paris. Little do they know this mission will change everything.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter I

The sun was setting down on Paris as the party returned from the countryside. The King had been hunting for a couple of days and they were all finally returning to the city. Many Musketeers were in charge of security. The tedious duty of listening to Louis XIII had been somewhat brightened by the possibility to take part in the hunt. Aramis had made a great impression of his ruler by letting him kill one of the biggest and most beautiful deer in the forest.

Now, he was riding behind the royal carriage next to Porthos who was explaining in a boasting voice what he had planned for their free night. He intended to raid at least two taverns to consume as much alcohol as was possible.

« I might even have the chance to challenge a few Red Guards to a game of cards. Some money would be greatly appreciated and this sort cannot hold their liquor as much as I can. » He winked and knocked on his head to show how shock-proof it was.

D'Artagnan laughed but Athos only grumbled his disapproval. Aramis knew that his friend would only be drinking tonight, and would most likely pass out sometime around the wee hours of the morning. Truth be told, this prospect seemed rather appealing to him, too.

« What do you say, Aramis ? » Porthos punched his shoulder to get his friend's attention. « Stop thinking too hard or you will end with a headache. God knows you are not used to too much activity up there ! »

d'Artagnan was too good an audience ; he laughed heartedly at the joke. Aramis simply smiled, he was in no mood to banter. He was not in the mood to enjoy himself lately. Ever since the King had announced that Queen Anne was with child, he had become more and more moody. It was not in his nature. But when such an event, the pregnancy and what had led to it, befell someone, one must admit that it was a hard task to go back to a normal life.

Of course, the baby was a healthy boy, his mother had not suffered too much from expecting, and the Dauphin had a secure future ahead of him. A dull future, Aramis did not envy him one second, but a secured one anyway.

The Musketeer resented the idea that he would never be able to occupy a proeminent role in his son's life. Only two other people in the world knew he was his son and it broke his heart. It broke his heart that he could not tell his friends how proud he was. It broke his heart that he could not spend all his free time looking at his child. It broke his heart to hear the King speak so proudly of the heir to the throne, marvelling at how much he looked like him.

At this thought, Aramis snorted loudly. The King could be so thick. At least, he was certain he had sired the Dauphin ; the Queen and her lover were safe.

« What is it ? I am making fun of you here ! Or maybe you head is _that_ thick and you did not understand the jest. Shall I rephrase it for you?»

« Try and I will punch you so hard, you will not need the alcohol to pass out tonight. »

« As if you could hurt me. We all know I am the best with my fists.»

« Is this a challenge ? » One of the side effects of his now complicated life, apart from the constant sadness and worrying, was that Aramis could lose his temper really fast. He did not like being asked what was wrong ; he did not like being brought back from his thoughts.

Athos saw Porthos grit his teeth, his fists clenching on the reins. He trotted between his two comrades.

« You need to calm down, Aramis. Your bad mood is making everybody nervous around you. If you continue like this, I will have to ask Captain Treville to find you some boring engagement to accomplish by yourself. » Aramis glanced at him. It was not the first time this threat had been made.

« I wish I could control myself. I truly do. I want nothing more than to go back to the way it was before...to the way it was last year, » he whispered, careful not to be heard by the two others.

« Well, you can't. Now is not the time to consider what would be if you had not been _that_ foolish. » Athos fell back in line behind him. Aramis did not even try to explain himself. This conversation would never be settled. Athos had come to terms with what had occurred at the convent, knowing that there was nothing to do to change it. He still could not believe it had happened, though. A flash of fear passed in his eyes as he imagined the consequences of the whole thing being revealed.

The four friends were silent for the end of the journey back. The night had fallen when they reached the Palace. The Musketeers stopped their horses at the gate.

« Let's get back to the barracks as soon as possible. There are many glasses of wine waiting for us somewhere. Any suggestion on where to begin ? » d'Artagnan suggested a place near Constance's house. He was hoping to make an early retreat there to catch some sight of the woman he loved. Athos had no preference. Porthos turned to Aramis.

« I am not coming with you, » he eventually said. « I have some arrangement scheduled here for the night. »

« Really ? Are you going to sacrifice a free night with your friends to go see some woman ? Who is she this time ? »

« You do not know her. I will join you later tonight, I promise. » What he did not say is that he prayed they would be too drunk to realize that he would not hold on to this promise. Porthos grunted and turned his horse around, followed by d'Artagnan. Aramis jumped down from his horse to face a very unhappy Athos.

« Do you have a death wish I should know about ? » he hissed. « I cannot believe you would risk going in the Palace to see _him_ ! »

« I have already done so a couple of times. I am always careful. »

« Yes, but both times, you were already on duty inside ! Tonight is different ! How do you think the King will react if you cross his path ? »

« I don't know ! I will tell him I wanted to congratulate him again on his kill. I will find an excuse ! And anyway, he must be _so_ tired from the journey back that he will go to sleep at once. » Aramis rolled his eyes and the other took a step closer. Their faces were almost touching.

« Do not talk like this, somebody could hear you. You are playing a very, very dangerous game, my friend. »

« I am not going to apologize for it. I _need_ to see him, Athos. You do not understand how I feel. I need to make sure he is safe. I will not be alone with him, if this is what you are worried about. Nobody will walk on a Musketeer tending to the Dauphin by himself. This woman I am meeting with, she's his governess, » he explained when Athos raised an eyebrow.

« You better be at the Garrison tomorrow morning at first light. » With this, the older Musketeer got back on his horse and turned around.

Aramis sighed. He had to admit he was a little bit sorry to inflict such an ordeal on his best friend. He quickly dismissed the thought, eager to be reunited with one of the other important persons in his life.

* * *

Walking in the Palace corridors, Aramis bowed his head to several girls he recognized. Most of them returned a warm smile and some giggles followed him down a corridor. He checked his face in a mirror. Dust plastered his uniform and his face, but he was too impatient to take the time to wash. Taking off his hat, he attempted to tame his hair, then knocked twice on the door. It was just a bad time to pass before he could have his reward of the evening.

« Good evening, you, » Marguerite said, opening the door for him. She was genuinely happy to see him. For one split second, he felt guilty manipulating her. He returned the smile, thinking of the baby.

The door closed behind him. It was the first time he had come here. Before, they always met near the nursery and did nothing more than talking and flirting. It came naturally to Aramis, so it was not too hard to do so with a woman he had no particular interest in. Besides, Marguerite was quite pleasant to the eye, her blond hair hanging loose on her shoulder.

« I thought you were not going to come. Or you had gotten lost someplace else, even though a lot of women here say you perfectly know your way around the Palace, especially when you have to meet with women. »

« What can I say if the King insists on employing such lovely and entrancing women ? » He smiled suggestively, bent down and kissed her on the cheek. She smelled of lilac. Her laughter vibrated on his skin. She took his hand and sat him down on her bed.

« You look tired. Is there anything I can do for you ? » Her fingertips lightly touched his eyelids, then kept going down to trace his jawline and the side of his neck. If he closed his eyes, he could easily imagine it was somebody else doing this to comfort him. His heart clenched.

« You are already doing a lot, my dear. » He kissed her again, first on the cheek, briefly on the mouth before ghosting feather kisses on her shoulders. These were met by a shudder of delight.

« We do not have a lot of time. I need to be in the nursery in one hour. » _And so do I_.

« We should stop talking, then. »

Aramis muffled the crystalline laugh with his mouth, lying down on the tiny bed and taking Marguerite with him.

* * *

Marguerite finished doing her hair. She came back to lie down next to her lover, running her hand on his bare chest. She rejoiced in the feeling and involuntarily, so did Aramis. He did not manage to go all the way, it was too difficult for him. After the convent and his night with the Queen, he had bedded several girls. Yet, ever since she had announced her pregnancy, he had not slept with any woman. Quite shocking, when you knew his ladyman reputation. There was something inside him that blocked him. He knew he had no right to think this way, but it felt like he was cheating on Queen Anne.

However, he had made sure that Marguerite felt completely satisfied. There were many ways for that, and he had not forgotten one. Her head rested on his heart, locks of her hair tickling his underarm.

« I wish I had the night with you. »

«So do I. » A lie. « You can, though. Let me find my shirt and I will keep you company tonight. » He was already up and dressing before she could utter her protest.

« But... »

« The Dauphin is only four months old, Marguerite. He's going to spend most of his time sleeping. Don't you think you could entertain yourself better with me there instead of simply watching over his crib ? »

He added a suggestive wink to the argument. It was enough to convince the girl. She retrieved the Musketeer's hat from the floor, put him on his head, then grabbed his hand.

« Come on, then. »

The closer they were getting to the nursery, the quicker Aramis' heart was beating. It had been almost two weeks since he had seen his son. Marguerite made him wait in the corridor while she talked with the other governess waiting on the heir. Some baby noises were heard and he clutched his hat more tightly between his fingers. He had to control himself. After all, he was here for the woman, not for the baby : this was what he had to remind himself. It was what everybody had to think.

He greeted Marguerite's friend on her way out. After what he decided was an acceptable few seconds, he pushed the heavy door open.

« He was fed just before we arrived. It should not take long before he goes to sleep. » She kept on talking and shushing the little boy, rocking him gently in her arms. Aramis stopped listening to her. His eyes were riveted on the blanket and the head he could discern in it.

The smile that spread on his face was not planned ; he could not help it. Proud and happiness surged through him, his chest heaving with warm feelings. Only a year ago, if someone had told him he would react like this, Aramis would have laughed and dismissed it. He was not the marrying type, he was not the committing type. He didn't use to care about having a family. Being a soldier was some dangerous business so it would seem unfair to make a wife and some potential children suffer from his commission.

Little could he know that a little dark-hair baby would change this vision forever. He came closer to Marguerite. She was not tall so when he put one hand on her shoulder, she had to crane her head to look him in the eyes. If he closed his, he could imagine it was the Queen holding the child. _Their _child.

"He's a beautiful baby." His voice was hoarse with emotion.

"But not as beautiful as you are, do not worry. You still have all my favours. Now, be patient a few minutes and let me do my job."

She resumed her walking, hoping to soothe the wee one to sleep. Aramis was simply content to watch her do so. For now.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

Somewhere in the Palace, a clock struck midnight. Aramis yawned, slapping his face to stay awake. They had been in the nursery for some time already, and once the Dauphin had fallen asleep, it had not taken long for his governess to do the same. For the Musketeer, however, resting was out of the question. He wanted to spend every second he could watching his son. His image would be imprinted in his mind.

Standing up, he stretched his legs and arms. Then, he knelt next to the crib, careful not to disturb the infant. To be frank, Aramis had always thought that babies were quite boring. This was before he met his own. Every little noise, every little movement was a delight. A frown, a small hand clutching the blanket, lips smacking faintly. Everything was important to him now. He put the blanket back in place to keep Louis warm, and his finger lingered on the soft skin of his face. It was scary how someone so important for the country, someone destined to such greatness was just so fragile compared to the rest of the world. His father's hand was as big as his head. One careless action could harm him.

"So tiny...so beautiful...my beautiful son..." On second thoughts, it was perhaps better that Porthos did not know about this child. He could only make fun of Aramis's attitude towards him. You could have never imagined that cocky and seductive Aramis would turn into such an enthusiastic father.

Marguerite moved in the armchair behind him. As slowly as he could, Aramis gathered the baby and the blanket in his arms, then walked to the other side of the room.

"Sssssh, we don't want to wake her up, now, do we? We have things to discuss, the two of us. Man to man."

It was the first time he could speak freely. He didn't know if such an opportunity would occur again so he had to take advantage of it. Rocking the baby, he began whispering about his life. First as a boy, then as a Musketeer. He told his son about his friends, about his job, about the things he liked in Paris. He told him about what he used to do as a child back in the countryside. He told him about the follies he'd done and the corrections he had received from his father. He described the beautiful landscapes he had seen, in France and elsewhere.

After a moment of uninterrupted whispering, Aramis was silent, rejoicing in the weight of his son pressed against his chest. The silence did not suit the boy who started fussing.

"Sssh, sssh, don't cry. Everything's fine. Ssssh..._Los pollitos dicen pio pio pio cuando tienen hambre y cuando tienen frio..._ »

The words came back easily as he sang one of the lullabies his mother used when he was a child. The rhythm soothed the child quickly back to a peaceful sleep.

"I was not aware a new governess had been hired." So deeply focused on his son, Aramis had not realized someone else was in the room with them. He had longed to hear this particular voice talking to him. The last time they talked was after the King's announcement that the Queen was expecting the heir. The voice was not as warm and friendly as he remembered.

"I can explain, your Majesty. I promise you I mean no harm." When he turned around to face the Queen, Aramis realized he was actually looking at the image of the woman he had in his memory. Her hair was hanging freely down her shoulders and her back. She was simly wearing a nightgown and a heavy robe on top of it. Apart from the anguish look now absent from her eyes, she strongly resembled how she was at the convent all these months back.

"I believe I can trust you on this aspect. However, I am not at all happy with Marguerite. She should have never allowed someone foreign to the care of the Dauphin to stay with her."

"This is entirely my fault as well, please, do not be severe with her because of me." He would hate it if his careless behaviour was to send the governess away from the Palace. It was not part of his plan. Athos may be right; his attitude was having consequences on more people than himself. "I just...had to see him."

The Queen was motionless. This entire situation did not put her at ease. Ever since the night spent with the Musketeer, she had longed to have a chance to settle the problem so they would not betray one another. Now was this chance, but she was not feeling so brave anymore. She wanted to be firm, to keep a calm front. The vision offered to her was putting her mind at test. This was not the strong soldier she remembered. The Aramis in front of her had let down his guard (too much) and she could see how affected he was by the consequences of their actions.

"I know I promised I would protect him and be the best servant he could have, and I swear I will be this man. When he was not born yet, it was easy to imagine I could watch him from afar and be satisfied with it. I thought I could detach myself from my feelings and act as if we had no bond. Now, on the other hand, he is truly here and... I can't. It is as if I am drawn to him. I haven't seen him in a fortnight, you know. I have no right to be in this room, to hold him but...he is the most precious thing I have in the world and that's the entire problem. Because he's not mine."

Aramis looked away. He did not want to feel so vulnerable. He stroked the mass of hair on the baby's head. Some dark and already curling hair, like his own. The Queen walked up to them, resting her hand on the other's arm. Her cold stare was gone.

"We need to talk, Aramis." He nodded and followed her as she led the way to the adjacent room which made up the nursery. There were only a bed and another crib. A single candle lit the place, creating a peaceful halo where they both sat, Aramis still holding their son. There was no need to pretend in here, and the Queen remained as close as she could to her baby.

"He has your hair. Everybody can see he will be the most beautiful baby in the city."

"As I look at his mother, I can totally understand why." She smiled at the compliment.

"I've been meaning to have a conversation with you for some time now. But it is so difficult to do so without people suspecting anything. After all, what matter could I have to settle with a simple Musketeer? I do not regret a single thing I have done, I want you to know this. What we had was perfect. It was...I believe it was the best time of my life."

Aramis thought he saw her cheeks turn lightly red. She was not used to speak without a whole entourage ready to repeat every one of her words. Even though she may be able to see her son whenever she wanted, he did not envy her royal position one second.

"I feel the same way, your Majesty. I know it was a hard time, the attack, Helene's death and everything, and that under other circumstances, _it_ may not have happened. I am just glad it did and I will not apologise for saying it. I am even more glad for him."

The boy was sleeping happily, his little fingers curled around one of his father's. To Aramis, and to the Queen, it was the best they would ever manage to get together.

"I wish I were not Queen. I wish we could tell the world what we created together. I wish things were different for you. At the same time, I spend many days worried about what would be if someone discovered the truth. I am not afraid of dying, everybody must do one day. No, I am afraid for him. What would happen to him?"

She shuddered at the idea and Aramis had to refrain from putting one of his arms around her shoulders in comfort. He had to stop thinking of her in a physical way since he knew nothing good would come out of it. They may be united around the baby but he had to keep it to this. He had to forget the rest. He needed limits.

"As long as I live, no harm will come to him. I'd rather die than see him hurt... or you."

"I believe you. I also believe we will take the secret to our graves. Nevertheless, you coming here is too dangerous."

"I have heard this before. Athos knows. He...he saw us that night." It did not come as a surprise, she had already figured it. "I realize it is dangerous. Every second I spend here puts him, and you, at risk. I may be selfish, your Majesty, but I do not feel guilty."

"I have been thinking...what if I find an official excuse for you to be close to the nursery? What if I asked for a Musketeer to always be near by? Not always you, of course, but once in a while. The King would not object. He desires nothing more than for his heir to be safe. Who can be better than his most faithful soldier to do so?"

Aramis could hardly believe what he was hearing. He had dreaded hearing her say she did not want him near the baby ever again. It was her right to demand it, and he would have obeyed. It would have made him more miserable then ever, though. She did not look like a Queen giving orders and expecting them to be obeyed at once right now. She was a mother in a complicated situation, doing everything in her power to improve their life. She gazed fondly at the bundle in his arms, her eyes often glancing at him. In his heart, he was aware that if he continued coming here as he did tonight, someone would notice and report him. The consequences would be terrible.

This proposition felt like a miracle. A small miracle, but enough to brighten his face a little. He would still carry a heavy burden yet somehow the weight would be lessened. The Queen was on his side; it was all he needed. Her idea would certainly be the closest he'll get to being involved in his son's life. He could wish for more, but it would forever remain wishful thinking.

"Your Majesty is too generous with me."

"Nonsense. It hardly seems fair compared to what you have given me. Before he was conceived I...felt like a ghost in this cold Palace. I have no friend, no one to confide in. I used to spend my days needling or making conversation with Countesses and Duchesses who were merely after royal favours. I felt empty. Everything's changed thanks to you. You've given me the greatest gift I could have asked for, Aramis."

She raised her head, kissing his cheek lightly. She remembered how his beard had felt on her face, how she had liked the touch of it. She had liked the roughness she was completely denied in this place. Aramis closed his eyes.

"I wish your Majesty hadn't done this...I cannot stop thinking of you. My mind is full of foolish ideas about what could be if we weren't us. I am having a difficult time moving on with my life. Just ask my comrades, they will tell you I drive them mad. I need to stop thinking of you in this way. You are the Queen, I am a soldier and you must assure me nothing will ever happen between us again. I am not rejecting you," he added seeing how hurt she seemed to be. Making her angry was not his intention. "I am being realistic here. I am certain it would be...agreeable to say the least, and an escape from your rigid life. Just think of the consequences. We cannot do this to the boy."

The Queen was taken aback until she realized he was correct. She composed her face. He could not be the only responsible one in their relationship. Did they even have a relationship?

"I have to agree with you. Nothing stops us from being friends, though. I want us to be friends, Aramis, to the limit of what is acceptable, of course. Our son deserves it." He smiled at her last words.

"I cannot promise it will be easy, your Majesty, and..."

"Anne, please call me Anne."

"This is not helping, your Majesty."

She did not know if she wanted to cry or to laugh. A choked noise came from her throat and he was the one who laughed, giving her a warming smile. At this moment, she understood that although their problem would never be solved and they would never be completely satisfied, they would make it work.

Baby Louis also reacted to the noise, his eyelids fluttering open. His gaze locked on his father's, wondering who this new face was. The Queen said a few words in Spanish, her recognizable voice comforting the little one.

"He will want to be fed soon."

"Is it the reason why you came here in the middle of the night?" Aramis could not believe the King would allow his royal wife to nurse their child herself. His disbelief made her laugh.

"The King would have a fit if I did. No, I simply could not sleep. I had this strange feeling tonight was special. I was not mistaken." Her eyes moved from the father to the son, realizing how much they were going to look alike. "I do believe he will have your eyes as well."

"For his sake, I hope not. He will attract too many women if he does. He will never have a moment of peace. It will be hard enough with him being the heir to the throne. You do not want swarms of courtesans permanently attached to him."

"I see someone has a rather high opinion of themselves." Another carefree laugh escaped her lips. She almost looked surprised by it herself. Despite the perilous state of her life, she enjoyed the beneficial effect Aramis was having on her. She desired nothing more than having the opportunity to laugh all day long and entertain herself. He was constantly changing her life for the best. The Musketeer had to see how serious she was in wanting to give me a place in their son's life.

She stood up from his side, fidgeting with one of her necklaces. She eventually took it off and fastened it around Aramis's neck.

"Your Majesty must stop offering me necklaces. Porthos is already starting to say I behave like a woman."

"It is a locket I requested for myself but I can always have another one commissioned. Here, give him to me." Her hands grazed his as she took the baby from his arms. Emptiness surrounded him at once. He felt cold again. "Open it."

He did and the cold vanished. On the left side, there was a miniature of the baby sleeping. On the right side, a lock of black hair was fastened to the golden frame.

"I cannot change the fact that you will not be by his side all the time. It is small but it will keep him close to your heart, if you ever feel miserable again."

"I don't know how to thank you."

"You need not. Promise me you will not try to approach the Dauphin when you are not on duty, that is all I ask."

"It would be reckless of me to do so, now that we have an agreement."

"Thank you. Now, let us find someone to feed this poor little soul."

Aramis watched her retrace her steps back to the other room, the baby already starting to cry. He had to be gone before Marguerite was woken by the noise. She would be mortified if she realized the Queen had seen Aramis in the nursery, where he was supposedly forbidden to come. He didn't have the time to properly say goodbye so he pressed the locket in his hand, put his hat back on his head and left quickly. The end of the night had not been as bitter as he had imagined because he knew he would soon have the opportunity to see his baby again. And it made the whole difference.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

Invigorated by last night's events, Aramis felt like a new man. It was the first time he had slept so well in many months. The locket resting on his chest was the first thing on his mind when he woke up. The sun was already shining brightly, lighting his small room at the Musketeers Garrison. The prospect of getting up, seeing his friends, even going to the Palace and witnessing the Queen from afar were not so dreaded any more. He thought it was about time his life settled down a little.

He quickly washed his face, changed his shirt and donned his uniform. There was activity in the courtyard. He could hear sword-fighting noises, as well as horses in the stables. He was back in his much-loved reality.

The kitchen was mostly empty when he entered to find some breakfast. He was famished; he had not eaten anything since they had left the countryside the day before. He found some bread and cheese, sat down on one the long benches, his hat next to his plate and this was where his three friends discovered him later.

"There he is! You were missed last night. What happened to you?" d'Artagnan asked, sitting casually on the table, his feet on the bench.

"You are the one to talk. This one abandoned us after not even a bottle of wine. He was otherwise engaged."

"What can I say? You were in no measure to compete with Constance's arguments!"

"Where did you go anyway?" Porthos asked.

"I came straight back here after the Palace. I was too tired, if you must know." Athos raised an eyebrow. He did not believe what Aramis was saying. The latter stared intensely, trying in vain to convey some emotion or explanation. Athos eventually turned his head. They would have to talk later so Aramis could explain the new developments.

Porhtos howlered at his friend's excuse, clapping his back. It seemed that yesterday's altercation was either forgiven or forgotten.

"Now I recognise you, Aramis. Lately, I was worrying that you had fallen in love with one of your women. What a bore _that_ would be. No more night out, no more cheap entertainment. I'm relieved!" The three Musketeers shared a laugh, Athos barely acknowledging the joke.

"I feel much better today, I must say. I must have been feeling ill to be so execrable. Everything should be back the way it is supposed to be, though. I apologise for the way I treated you last night."

"Forget it. I am glad you've come to your senses, that is all. Will you be seeing her again then, your mysterious woman, or what?"

"Who knows? She goes easy on the eye." Aramis shrugged. Now that the Queen was going to make it official for him to be near the nursery, did he want to continue seeing Marguerite? After all, they were going to run into each other while she'd be watching the Dauphin and he'd be keeping watch. The idea of sleeping with her again was not so appealing but it was not torture either. Yes, he would probably keep seeing her in that way.

"Well, while you make up your mind, who is in favour of some sword practice to wake us up?" As the latest addition to the Garrison, d'Artagnan was always looking forward to show his ability, especially by competing against his friends. Porthos stole some food from Aramis's plate and followed their younger friend outside.

"I saw the Queen last night," Aramis muttered to Athos now that they were by themselves in the common room. He could see his friend's eyes judging from behind the brim of his hat. Athos did not say anything, waiting for the rest of the story. "We managed to talk, only the two of us. She does not mind me seeing the child, if you must know. She even decided to..."

"Athos, Aramis! In my office this instant!" Captain Tréville cut off Aramis, then left the room as soon as he had arrived. "Find Porthos and d'Artagnan."

"We will continue this later, "Athos decided, judging the expression on Aramis's face. What could have happened last night to so radically change the Musketeer? He could not deny it was indeed a relief to see the improvement in his mood.

A few minutes later, the four Musketeers were standing in line in front of their Captain's desk. It looked like they were going to be sent on another mission. No rest for the soldiers of the King.

"I need two of you to ride to Orléans. My sister and her husband live in the city. Last month, I received a letter asking if my nephew Christophe could come learn some life lessons in my care. From what I understood, this one is quite a rascal so whoever decide to retrieve him will have to be careful. I suppose he is not thrilled to have to spend time with the Musketeers. Despite what people may think when looking at some of our members, we respect a strict discipline. It can only be beneficial for the boy. He will celebrate his sixteenth birthday in June."

"I will go," Aramis proposed. He had to redeem himself in the eyes of his superior.

"I'll come with you," Porthos decided.

"Good, it is settled then. Athos, d'Artagnan, you may go. This is a map of the quickest road to reach their house. My brother-in-law possesses a mansion in the outskirts of the city. You leave today so you should be back by the end of the week."

Porthos grabbed the map and left the room to go prepare their horses for the journey. Aramis went to gather some food for the road. Not even an hour after their assignment had been given they were on their way.

#####

The weather was mild and they managed to make quick haste on the road. Porthos launched the conversation on his feats from last night, from winning a card game to gaining the favours of the young inn-keeper. Being the only one there with him, Aramis had to listen, something which he had stopped doing these past months. His thoughts used to be solely focused on the Palace, on the baby and on the Queen. He realized he had missed the harmless banter of his friend. His child was still on his mind, but with things being now somehow settled with the Queen, he did not feel so guilty not worrying about the Dauphin all the time. So when Porthos eventually quieted, he ended up telling him a couple of things about Marguerite.

Later that night, Aramis was lying on the bed in the small room they had rented at an inn on the road down south. The owner was quite proud to be hosting two of the King's Musketeer under his roof. He had provided his best wine (which tasted funny) and they had feasted until their stomachs hurt.

Porthos had gone to the stables to make sure their horses were fed and given enough hay. Alone in the room, Aramis was in the best spirits to pray. Holding the Queen's crucifix to his lips, he gave thanks to God for last night, for his conversation with her Majesty, for the time spent with his son. He asked God to protect them both and to make sure that the baby stayed in good health. He could not finish his prayer without asking God's forgiveness for the way he was treating Marguerite, and also for the way he had betrayed his King. This last part was always there whenever he turned to God. He knew his past actions were leading him straight to Hell, but it may help to show some shame. After all, he had failed in his duties to the King of France. His shame was so low compared to his feelings of joy and pride that it was almost shameful itself.

Aramis signed himself, kissed the crucifix and after listening intently for Porthos's footsteps, he decided it was safe to look at the locket. Even when it was closed, the piece of jewellery was gorgeous; it was intended for the Queen after all. The oval was pure gold, and three topazes were encrusted on each side: blue was the colour of the King. Inside, the miniature was so well executed that for a second, Aramis thought he was really gazing at his child. Baby Louis was going to change and grow up so fast that it was important to remember how he looked like when he was tiny and had not a care in the world. The Musketeer closed his eyes, wondering if he would be tall like he was, and if he would have a natural ability for swording. He hoped so.

"Don't tell me someone else gave you another necklace!" Porthos exclaimed. Aramis was startled and he sat up straight on the bed, putting the locket back under the protection of his shirt. "These women give them to you as if they were leashes to keep you under their orders. I can understand it coming from the Queen, we must be loyal to her after all. But from a servant? If I did not know you better, I'd say you are getting dangerously close to matrimony."

"Do not fret about this, my friend. The day I give up my freedom is still not in the near future. I like our way of life too much." He chastised himself for not paying enough attention to his surroundings. Athos would most certainly have given him a lecture on caution if he had been present.

Aramis blew out the candle on the bedside table, said good night and turned around to face the wall. His fingers were playing with the locket and the chain when he finally went to sleep.

#####

The next morning, fresh and rested, the two riders continued their journey. There was a little wind and the clouds in the sky did not augur of a dry day. They could simply hope they would reach Orléans before the rain started. Captain Tréville's sister seemed to be well-known in the city. Porthos had to stop to ask further directions to some merchant in the street and from what he gathered, the only shadow on the family's reputation was their youngest son who always managed to get himself in the worst possible situations.

"If he does not want to come with us, I suggest we tie him up on a horse and gag him. It will spare us much trouble." Unable to decide if it was a joke or if he was serious, Aramis nodded his assent. Porthos was capable of doing such a thing, he had done so in the past.

The mansion was surrounded by the green and luxuriant forest. The scenery seemed to be a hunting paradise and as they came closer, the two friends realized how imposing the house was.

"I wonder what he does for a living. The Captain did not say anything about it. I doubt he is in the military or his son would behave better than he does."

Suddenly a gunshot broke the quiet atmosphere. The horses, used to the noise, did not move.

"It came from the house."

"Trouble already?"

"You may have been wrong about the military."

"There's only one way to find out."

Pushing their horses to a gallop, Porthos and Aramis headed straight ahead.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter IV

There were six horses scattered in front of the mansion, and no indication of who their owners might be. Some noises which sounded like glass being shattered were heard from inside, followed by a high-pitched scream. The two Musketeers dismounted, already drawing their swords.

"There!" Porthos motioned to a pair of feet appearing through the front door. They belonged to a servant girl who seemed to have taken a blow to the head. Kneeling next to her, Aramis checked for her heartbeat and found one.

"This one was not so lucky," he said, witnessing the pool of blood spreading under the body of a valet. As he stood up, he noticed movement reflected in the mirror behind his friend. Putting a finger on his lips, he pointed in the direction of the stranger, then stepped back outside to wait, hidden by the front door. Porthos backed down against the wall, his sword in his hand, ready to pounce on his opponent.

"Didn't you hear a noise? How many of these dogs can still be hiding around this place?" The man wore old battered clothes, a piece of cloth covered his hair, and he smelled like rotten food. He did not notice Porthos as he walked straight to the door. "No, nobody's her..." His last words were cut off by Aramis putting his sword to his throat.

"In the name of the King, I order you to tell me who you are and..."

"Watch out!" Porthos shouted.

The bandit had no intention of complying with the order. His dagger only scratched Aramis's arm before a slash of a sword silenced him forever.

"I hate it when people do not take me seriously," he complained, cleaning the blade on the dead's dirty jacket.

"They might do if you stop looking like a choir boy."

"A natural quality."

"André, where are you? Emile wants us to look for the boy in the kitchen."

"I do not think so, no." Porthos blocked the second intruder's path with his massive body, his fist colliding with a nasty face. It sent the other to the floor, blood running down his face. "He's out cold. I did tell you I was the best when it came for fist-fighting."

More crashing sounds were heard from the first floor. A masculine voice was shouting threats while someone else, a girl probably, was screaming, visibly frightened. The two Musketeers ran up the stairs, passing more motionless bodies on their way. The last one they saw was the one of a man in his fifties. He wore richer clothes than the others and there was a bloodied sword in his right hand. Blood was pouring on his chest. He had taken a bullet straight to the heart.

The man had died in front of a large room where the commotion had been heard. The door was slightly ajar. Aramis peered inside. He saw two men with their backs to him, as well as another one who was holding a woman. He seemed to be having a hard time keeping her hands behind her back. She was putting quite a fight to break free until another man appeared on his visual field and slapped her across her face, leaving her speechless.

It was too much for the Musketeer and forgetting the surprise effect they could have taken advantage of, he sprang through the door, shooting one of their opponents from his left hand. He dropped the musket to take on a second one. When he was fighting, it was almost as if it was someone else taking over his body and his mind. Aramis did not have to think to perform any of his actions. It was instinct that guided his fist, his arm, his sword. It was his second nature. He knew exactly when to duck or swirl around to fend off an attack. He was also much aware of Porthos fighting next to him. Beside leading his own fight, he knew when and how to defend his friend.

Somehow, they managed to kill two of the bandits, a count to which they added a third body. Another intruder had arrived after them in the room, clearly alerted by all the racket.

"Enough! Enough! Put down your weapons or I kill her!" The one who seemed to be the leader had drawn a small knife and was holding is at the girl's white throat. She was petrified, her eyes filled with tears. Her whole body was shaking and she had difficulties breathing correctly. Porthos and Aramis obeyed, the two swords clanking on the wooden floor.

"What are two Musketeers doing here?"

"I think a more appropriate question is: what is a band of mavericks doing in such a rich mansion, murdering everyone on sight?"

"Do not play with me or the killing continues and you'll have this one on your conscience. Although it'd be a shame, really. She's so delectable." He smelled the girl's hair loudly and kissed her on the cheek. Her whimpers intensified.

"What do you want?" Porthos asked.

"We're looking for her brother. He struck some deal with us but unfortunately, he forgot to tell us it would be impossible to him to honour his debt. So we came to claim what was ours. Where is he?" he hissed in the girl's ear.

"I'll never tell you," she managed to answer. The blade was pressed more tightly to her neck and a drop of blood appeared.

"Wrong answer. My employer does not like being mocked so if we cannot settle the problem, we will have to take a replacement prize. What do you think? Would she do?" he asked his accomplice who looked even more disgusting.

Aramis gritted his teeth. He could not see how to get out of the situation without harming the hostage. He had already fired his musket, his sword was useless for now, and Porthos was in a similar position.

"We do not know what your problem with the boy is, but we have our orders to take him with us so whatever your business is, you will not win. I suggest you release her and leave before I decide to be less lenient." Porthos's words simply made them both laugh.

"Musketeers, always so full of yourselves. It would be a delight to continue this fine conversation but we have things to do. If you move one finger, she dies."

The trio passed them, the man dragging the girl who refused to move, and the second following suite, facing the two soldiers. The moment he eventually turned around to exit the room, things were set in motion.

They gathered their swords, Porthos stole pistols on two of the bodies, and tossed one to Aramis. At the top of the stairs, Aramis assessed the situation, then jumped over the banister to fall on the single man. The latter screamed out of shock, his legs giving way under the sudden weight of the Musketeers. A bit stunned, Aramis thrust his sword forward but his blow was too weak and he was disarmed easily. He drew his musket and the other grabbed hold of it, too, trying to steal the weapon. Suddenly, there was a shot, the girl screamed and she fell down the stairs, unable to break free from her kidnapper.

Porthos finished the one fighting with Aramis with a quick blow of his sword. His uniform was covered in blood. He held out his hand to help his friend on his feet. The mansion was eerily silent. Aramis's ears were ringing from the shot.

"Are you well? It was madness jumping like you did."

"It worked, it is all that matters. Who were these men anyway?"

"No idea, but it seems that Captain Tréville was correct about his nephew being a rascal. My God, look at this mess."

There was a faint groan behind them, coming from the tangled bodies of the girl and the criminal. They both knelt next to them, looking for any wounds and who had actually taken the bullet fired from Aramis's weapon. There was a considerable amount of blood, yet when he checked for a heartbeat, Porthos found one in the girl. The man, on the contrary, had none.

"He's dead as well. She looks intact except for this." Aramis gently grabbed the girl to lie her down at the bottom of the stairs. When the man had been shot, his dagger had ripped and there was a rather profond cut running from her shoulder blade to her back. Her dress had come loose. When she felt his hands inspecting her flesh, she bolted upright.

"Let me go!"

"Calm down, we mean no harm. We're Musketeers. We serve under your uncle's command. He's the one who sent us here. I'm Aramis and this is Porthos. What's your name?"

"Elise...My mother...and my father. Where are they?"

"You need to rest. You've been wounded and I need to take care of it before you lose too much blood. Porthos?"

"May I?" He did not wait for an answer and gathered Elise in his arms, looking for a bed or a sofa. He found a suitable one in the living room where the man he had punched was still lying on the carpet. Aramis found a curtain rope to tie his hands behind his back. They needed to know what had happened in this house, where young Christophe was.

"You take care of her and I'll ride into town to bring reinforcements."

Aramis ransacked the house in order to find supplies he could use. He tore apart some bed linens to use as bandages, he grabbed some more needles in a sewing box. Finally, he gathered as much strong alcohol as he could from a cabinet in what must have been the master of the house's office.

He drank some to gather his spirits, then looked at his patient, shaking and whimpering. After taking off his jacket and making himself comfortable, he knelt next to the couch. This was going to hurt.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter V

Aramis nudged Elise's healthy shoulder so she would look at him. The right side of her face was already taking on a bluish shade where the bandit had hit her. Her lips were swollen. She painfully opened her eyes.

"You must trust me. You are safe now, but I need to tend to your wound or it will get infected. It's going to hurt, I apologise for it. Drink up."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Drink up," he repeated, helping her hold her head and presenting a bottle of brandy to her lips. "It will make you go to sleep so you won't feel a thing."

She still had enough energy to raise an eyebrow at him, but she obeyed, drinking as much as she could. Her throat was on fire and she was trying not to spit it out on her surgeon. After what seemed an eternity (only a few minutes in reality), her vision became blurry, and as she drifted to unconsciousness, she was not even afraid of the needle Aramis was preparing.

* * *

When she finally emerged from her alcohol-induced sleep, the room was dark and she could hear the sound of rain against the windows. Someone had lit a fire so she did not feel cold. However, she tried to move, and there was pain in every single part of her body from her head to her toes.

She abandoned the idea of standing up even though she needed to speak with someone. She had to understand what had happened today. She had been aware that her young brother was wrecking havoc with his "friends" and that their parents were not at all happy about it, but she would have never imagined it would lead to this. She had never witnessed so much violence in her twenty years of existence.

What about her parents? Tears ran down her face when the memory of her father trying to protect them and being shot down appeared in her mind. It would be a miracle if he was still alive. And her mother? One of the men who invaded the house had stabbed her, Elise remembered it. She may have survived the wound. The Musketeers may know of her fate. She tried once again to move yet her heard started to spin. Whether it was from the alcohol or from the pain, she did not know. Probably both.

She heard footsteps and voices in the distance. Two of them were familiar. Turning her head as much as she could without causing too much pain, Elise tried to hear what they were saying. There was a talk about putting someone in a prison until they could learn more. Then, the tone changed as if they were interrogating a person who clearly was in no mood to cooperate.

"Porthos, no!" Aramis exclaimed, stopping his friend from hitting the criminal once again. Porthos had come back with a magistrate and two of his aids. They had all been shocked by the news of the attack. The criminal who had been tied up had regained consciousness, but he refused to say a word. The Musketeer did not have patience for this sort of man.

"Fine, deal with him the way you want. Still, a few more blows could help quicken his confession."

"This is not the way we deliver justice, Sir." This foreign voice was squealing. Elise did not like the sound of it. Someone was coming closer to her position. From where she was lying, she noticed only his back but he was wearing a uniform. She could trust him.

"Please?" Her words came out hoarse. Her throat was dry. Porthos heard her anyway. Turning around, he came to her side. "What's happened?"

"You need not worry, Miss. Everything is under control. How are you feeling?"

"My parents... Are they...?" She could not bear saying the rest out loud for fear it would be bad luck. The tall and dark Musketeer took her hand in his. He looked sincerely sad. His face was the only answer she needed.

"I'm deeply sorry. There was nothing we could do for them." Elise turned her head to face the sofa so he could not see the tears spilling from her eyes. It was a nightmare and she would soon wake from it. There was no other explanation for this barbarity. "Are you feeling better? Can I be of any help?"

She shook her head. She wished to be alone for now. Her body was rocked by her sobs and slowly, she drifted back to sleep.

* * *

Porthos and Aramis were sitting near the fireplace, eating sourly their ration of food. They were silent, the events of the day replaying in both their minds. The magistrate had taken the bandit back to Orléans, and he had arranged for the bodies to be brought to the prison the next day. It was dark outside. The girl was still sleeping soundly in the sofa, Portho's cape draped around her to keep her warm. Aramis knew well enough that stitching up a wound was not the end of it. He could only hope that keeping her warm and changing her bandage often would prevent any infection or fever.

"What are we going to tell the Captain?" Porthos asked.

"What do you think? We tell him the truth. We tell him his sister and his brother-in-law were murdered because of his nephew."

"He'll be thrilled."

"And we tell him we killed most of the suspects but there may still be a chance of finding out who commissioned the operation. And we tell him we saved his niece."

"What are we to do with her?"

"I don't think we have much of a choice. Most of the servants are wounded and left with no intention of coming back. It is not a safe place any more. We will take her with us, bring her to the family she had left."

"I wonder where the boy is. If you want my opinion, he deserves a severe scolding for what he has caused."

"I could not agree more. But it is not our decision to take. Young boys can be so foolish sometimes!" Aramis growled. Porthos sniggered.

"As if you did not make any mistake when you were young."

"Perhaps I did," he said, thinking of Isabelle, their almost-marriage and the lost child. "Even so, it did not end up with an entire family decimated." Porthos agreed and they finished their meal in silence.

Before going to sleep, Aramis checked on Elise's wounds. Her forehead was not overly hot so it was a good sign. He applied a fresh bandage to her shoulder, inspecting the needlework to make sure it was solid. Then, he pressed a wet cloth to her lips, trying to wake her up so she would eat something. He was unsuccessful.

* * *

The night was not quiet. Elise had many nightmares and even attacked Porthos when he tried to calm her down. Who would have thought that an injured girl could be so aggressive? When she was not screaming in her sleep, she was crying out softly, small whimpers peppered with pleas to let her go.

Dawn came too soon for the three of them. Elise was numbed by the pain so she did not speak one word to her saviours, merely acknowledging the piece of bread she was given to eat. She nibbled on it, sitting on the sofa. Her legs had regained enough strength to carry her on a small distance, that is to Porthos's horse. The Musketeers had explained their plan to take her back to Paris with them. She did not argue considering that she hardly had a say in the matter. There was nothing left for her here.

They hardly spoke on the road. It was still raining on them and although they were not going at a fast pace, the horse's movements were hurting Elise. Yet, she did not want to say anything or they would never reach their destination. She longed to be reunited with her uncle, to be in a safe place where she could grieve. Only when she almost fell from the horse did they stop. Porthos's arms were securely keeping her close to him on the saddle, but she clearly was too weak to continue, especially since she had not managed to eat anything since breakfast.

"She needs to rest. We should halt for today."Aramis was in agreement with this.

It was late afternoon when they found a hostel. Stating they were on a mission for the King, nobody asked them any questions. They requested a large room for the three of us. Leaving Elise by herself was out of the question, even if all the rules of decorum spoke against an unmarried girl sharing her room with two soldiers. This problem did not seem to cross her mind since she once again fell asleep without eating anything.

* * *

It was actually hunger which woke her up in the middle of the night. Someone was snoring in another bed. The room was warm thanks to a small fire. Her body was less painful already, and her face hurt less than the day before. She was about to walk out the door to find some food when she heard a voice behind her.

"You should sleep some more. We don't want you to be trampled by a horse if you fall down again."

"I didn't fall."

"Almost. Porthos may not have the same reflexes next time. You were rather lucky, I must say." There was a mocking edge to Aramis's words and she walked in his direction, next to the fire.

"I feel a little bit better, but I'm quite hungry."

"You may eat this. It's all we have left, I'm afraid." He handed her a piece of bread and some cheese. She ate them slowly, her back to the fire, the flames warming her up and making her feel slightly more alive.

"Might I look at your shoulder?" Aramis inquired once she had finished. She nodded and he stood up. Elise knew he only meant to check if she was healing correctly, but she was not used to a physician being so attractive. She shuddered when he touched her skin, and she had to hide her face so he would not see her blush. It hurt a little when he probed her wound.

"It's healing nicely. I was worried the ride would loosen the stitches but they are holding up fine."

"I was not aware Musketeers made so great surgeons as well."

"I thank you, but my skills are quite limited."

"My uncle used to send me letters telling me about his life in Paris, you know. He would talk about the Court and the King. He knew I loved reading about this flamboyant way of life. What I enjoyed the most, though, were his tales about Musketeers. He may even have mentioned you once or twice, if I recall correctly."

"I can only hope the Captain did not say anything inconvenient about me."

"Let me think...Aramis..." He was watching her intently, glad to see a little improvement in her behaviour. It was the most talking he had heard her do since they had met. "Aramis...Oh yes, Uncle wrote about how you won a shooting challenge against your friend and you would not stop boasting about it for days. He did say it was annoying."

"That sounds about right," Aramis conceded, smiling proudly. Elise returned the smile.

"That's pretty," she added, pointing to the cross hanging around his neck. She would not have thought that soldiers carried such religious objects. After all, their missions often led them to perform acts that God may disapprove. What had happened in her house was proof enough. Aramis looked down, moving the cross between his fingers. The rubies shone in the light of the fire.

"It was a gift. For saving someone's life. It never leaves me. It is a good protection in a dangerous life."

"I wonder how my life will look like now," Elise sighed, sitting down by the chimney. He followed suite. She looked so frail, and he did not really know how to help. Her entire life had shattered in a couple of hours, everything she knew was now gone. "Where is my brother? What will happen to me in Paris?"

"Captain Tréville will know what to do. We will find your brother. He is young so he must not have gone very far, especially if these men are still looking for him. We'll find him and we'll protect him so no harm may be done to him."

"Do you actually think so? It is frightening how someone so young can have made so many mistakes already. I had this strange feeling it would end badly. I wish I had been wrong."

"You should not torture yourself, Mademoiselle. It is not your fault. When a young man sets his mind on some goal, there is no reasoning him."

"Do you speak from experience?"

"You could say that."

Elise smiled a little more. It was comforting to have a quiet conversation even when the subject was of so much importance. She was not used to talking to men this way. Usually, they were only complimenting her on her looks, hoping to gain her favours and thus those of her father. But all things considered, she was not used to being beaten, to having her shoulder stitched up or to leaving her beloved home with two men she had just met either.

"I should get back to my bed," she eventually decided. She felt better after their talk. Rested, even. Aramis grabbed her elbow to help her stand up.

"I will be nearby if you need me."

And indeed, when Elise woke up from a nightmare a couple of hours later, he was at her side, shushing and reassuring her, as if he had been waiting for something like this to happen. It was what she needed to finally get some unbroken sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter VI

The small company reached the Garrison two days later late at night. Elise had somehow fallen asleep on the horse, her head thrown back against Porthos's chest. He was amazed at her ability to sleep in such a precarious position but again, she had had a rather rough couple of days. The courtyard was empty except for the two guards at the gate.

"Wake up, Elise. We've arrived," Porthos said as he slowed his horse to a stop. She opened her eyes, forgetting that one of them was still quite tender after the blow she had suffered. It hurt. She put her healthy arm on Aramis's shoulder as he helped her off the horse. She was glad the ride was over. She had never travelled for so long on horseback and her body was sore from it.

"Is the Captain here?" Aramis asked. A guard nodded. Supporting the young girl with one arm around her waist, they went up the stairs to the Captain's office. Inside, they found him standing around a table with Athos and d'Artagnan. They were studying a map.

"You are here at last. I was expecting you sooner. What held you up?" Captain Tréville was ready to confront his nephew on whatever new absurdity he had done, but fell silent when he took on the newly arrived guests. He was not overly surprised by the new battle bruises on Porthos's face or by the bandage on Aramis's hand. He was shocked to see his niece, held up tight against Aramis, Porthos's cape draped around her shoulders, and one side of her face as blue as a midnight sky.

"Elise? Why are you here? Where is your brother?"

She was so relieved to finally see a familiar face she could trust. Of course, she completely trusted the two Musketeers since they had saved her life and had taken good care of her these past days. But they were not family. Without saying a word, she broke free from Aramis's arms and crossed the room to find refuge in her uncle's embrace.

"They're dead! They're all dead!" she managed to choke. The words burnt in her mouth; She wanted them to be lies.

"Who has died? What are you talking about?"

"I believe she should rest. She has been quite shaken," Aramis suggested. "You might also want to send for a surgeon to check on her wounds."

"Her wounds? What have you done with her?" the Captain hissed.

"Do not yell at them, Uncle. They have been nothing but helpful. If it were not for their bravery, I would be dead as well. Or worse."

The Captain stared angrily at his two soldiers, before calling for another one of his men. Elise was sent to a bedchamber which was unused at the moment.

"Tell me everything," he requested as soon as she had left.

* * *

"The man you put in prison may end up sharing some valuable information," d'Artagnan suggested after the whole story had been shared by his friends.

"I doubt it. He did not say anything to us and trust me, I had some valid arguments," Porthos replied.

"Is there any other lead? Did any of the others say something we could use?"

"No, Athos. Only that the boy had made some arrangement he could not honour. A wager of some sort, I should think so. The problem is, even if he comes back to his house, we will not know. For his sake, I hope I never cross his path. Thinking about what his stupidity caused, I could punch him!"

"I remind you it's my nephew you're talking about, Porthos. You are out of line."

"Sorry, but it's the truth," he added under his breath. Captain Tréville heard it but chose not to acknowledge it. The news had brought much sorrow in his heart. His sister and her husband deceased, his nephew alone in the wilderness chased by who-knew how many mongrels, and his poor niece who had witnessed so many horrors.

"I will request an audience with the King tomorrow. I cannot let this barbarity go unnoticed. You may go now, the four of you."

The Musketeers did not go to sleep for a long time. Instead, they shared some bottles of wine, explaining again and again what had happened in Orléans. They might have missed an important detail but the more they drank, the more obscure the entire story became. Eventually, they dragged themselves to their bed chambers and slept soundly.

* * *

The following morning, Aramis woke up on his bed, still wearing his boots and his uniform. He used some cold water to wash his face and his hair. It had been nice to sleep an entire night without being woken up by Elise's cries and nightmares. He wondered how she was feeling. He added her to his quick morning prayer.

In the courtyard, he found his three companions already waiting for the Captain to accompany him to the Palace. Now that they were back in Paris and away from bullets and swords, he could focus again on what mattered the most to him, that is the Dauphin. He was dying to ask if the Queen had already requested the extra Musketeer guard in the nursery. But perhaps now was not the good time for such a question.

They rode in a peculiar silence toward the silence. It was unlike them to do so, to be around each other without bantering and joking. The Captain's sombre look dampened any desire to cheer the mood. He was grieving, even if he did not want his Musketeers to see it. His grief was personal. However, when he was in front of the King and had to explain what had befallen his family, keeping a straight face was difficult.

"What an abject tragedy to occur to you, Captain. We shall not tolerate it and the culprits will be found," the King decided, even though his face did not show one hint of emotion. The tricks of a monarch, Aramis guessed. He had often noticed the Queen doing the same thing: talking with a straight face when he knew she wanted to show much more. He observed her carefully while Captain Tréville was thanking the King, but her eyes were focused on Tréville, probably grieving for people she didn't even know.

"Actually, your Majesty, I came today to ask you a special request. I would like to be sent to Orléans to investigate the matter personally. After all, it is my family."

"But...who would take the Musketeers' command then? Surely, you cannot expect us to leave the Garrison unsupervised while you search the country. It cannot be allowed."

"Perhaps your Majesty could appoint someone else to take over Captain Tréville's authority while he is gone? I am certain there are men under his orders who are more than capable of assuming the responsibilities." Louis had not expected his wife to speak. It was a good thing she had, though, because he would not have accepted the suggestion if it had come from someone else. It would have been a direct and unforgivable affront. He seemed to consider the matter.

"Very well, my dear. And who may you suggest for such a task?"

"Athos, Sire," she replied without missing a beat. "He has proven his worth many times, and saved my life when it was threatened. Everybody appreciates him."

The above-named gaped at the turn of events until d'Artagnan elbowed him in the ribs. He had to bow his head slightly to hide his smirk. Despite the gravity of the situation, imagining Athos having to deal nicely and diplomatically with the great people of the world made him laugh.

"Athos...Why not? It is an excellent idea the Queen has given me! Sir Athos, step forward."

This time, it was Aramis who had to push him so he would move. The King stood up from his throne and walked down to Athos, who bowed. He did not like how things were going, but one simply did not say no to the King of France.

"We trust your judgement and your heart to serve us in the best of your abilities while you lead the Musketeers. Captain Tréville may go knowing that we have chosen a very capable man in his stead."

As soon as the royal couple had left the room, Porthos and d'Artagnan burst out laughing, bowing endlessly to their friend.

"Stop it," Athos said sternly.

"Is that an order, _Sir_? Do you command us to stop, _Sir_? May we inquire about our next mission, _Sir_?"

"If you don't stop your nonsense, it will be to clean the stables. Idiots."

"Thank you, Athos," the Captain said, cutting the banter short.

"Well, it's not as if they've given me a choice, is it?"

"I'll find my nephew as quick as I can. You will not be burdened for long."

"I hope so."

* * *

Captain Tréville left for Orléans the following day. Elise had been heartbroken to hear he was leaving so soon after her arrival. Yet, she understood why he was doing it. But she was in a city which was foreign to her, in a place full of men, of rough soldiers for the majority of them. She was not completely at ease. The surgeon they had sent to take care of her was an old smelly man who always looked drunk. She did not trust him one second. Instead, she had asked for Aramis to continue tending to her injuries.

Her body was finally catching up with all the emotions of the past week. When the Musketeer was not changing her bandage or forcing her to eat some soup, she mainly slept. She had never slept so much in her life. Given that she was often woken by nightmares, she needed _that_ much rest.

Three days after arriving in Paris, Elise felt well enough to actually leave the small room which had been provided for her. She only had the dress she had worn to come to put on. She did not want to look like she lived on the street, but she had no other choice. Perhaps this Athos who was in charge would allow her to get a new one. Or at least one that was not in shreds.

"Good afternoon, Mademoiselle," a warm voice greeted her in the corridor as she was looking around. She smiled, actually happy. The feeling was strange; she should not have been feeling so happy since her parents were dead. She should be mourning. It was shameful to be joyful because of a Musketeer, however remarkable he may be.

"Good afternoon to you, Aramis", she bowed courteously.

"Are you in need of anything?"

"No, thank you. I merely wanted to walk around the place. One can only stay in bed for so long before it becomes a boredom."

"You are getting better, then. I'm glad to hear it." He gave her a sincere smile.

"It's thanks to you and everything you need for me."

"Don't mention it. I simply did my duty."

"I still think you did more than others would have done. You and Porthos are a blessing. You'll forever have my gratitude."

"Please, you are going to make me blush," he joked, taking off his hat and pressing it to his face to hide his supposedly-changed complexion. Elise could not help laughing at his antics. "On a more serious note, would you like me to show you around the Garrison?"

"Don't you have more important matters to attend to? I'd hate to be a burden."

"Nothing is more important than our Captain's niece, trust me." Elise was secretly happy. She would enjoy the company.

"In that case, do you believe your Commander would allow me to get a more decent dress? I feel ashamed wearing this rag." Aramis looked puzzled for a second before he burst out laughing. He strode to her side to whisper these last words in her ear, as if it was a secret.

"When you say "Commander", do you mean Athos? Because if you do, never use this word to refer to him again. It would only go to his head and then, it'd be worse than having him be moody all day long. But you are right, you do need clothes. Come with me, I have something for you."

* * *

Aramis led her to Captain Tréville's office, which was empty for the moment. It was bad enough for Athos that his friends were always making fun of him because of his new position. He did not wish to fuel the jokes by taking over the commanding officer's office. Aramis rummaged in a wooden chest until he found what he was looking for.

"Porthos and I took these from your house before we left. We did not want them to fall into the wrong hands and, they belong to you after all."

He set a leather clutch on the table before her. When she opened it, she saw it contained many of her mother's jewels: necklaces and rings she had always loved and cherished.

"We intended to give them to you as soon as you would be feeling better. They should be enough to buy more than a dozen new dresses. Even some pairs of shoes."

There were tears in Elise's eyes as she displayed the jewellery in front of her. It was going to break her heart a little more to part from this treasure, yet, it had to be done. Seeing them filled her mind with images of her mother, looking very pretty in one of her beautiful gowns, earrings dangling in her neck and rings shining in the candlelight. She wished she could hug her mother right now.

"Thank you," she eventually said, choking back her sobs.

Aramis sensed her distress; it was not very difficult. He had been spending so much time with her lately that it felt like they had known each other their entire lives. He put a hand on her shoulder and before you could add a word, she had turned around and was burying her face on his chest. She was crying violently. It was the first time she had so openly demonstrated her grief. He put his arms around her waist to support her.

Athos found them in the same position when he entered the room some time later. It was as if Elise's body was draining all the tears it was accumulated these past days. She could not seem to stop. Aramis's uniform was as wet as if it had rained. His friend gave him a quizzical look, but Aramis simply shook his head, letting him know that it was better to leave them alone. At least until Elise had calmed down.

She cried so much that she actually ended up falling asleep from exhaustion.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter VII

Athos, d'Artagnan and Aramis were cleaning their swords in the courtyard when the messenger brought the letter from Captain Tréville. Porthos had gone with Elise to the Bonacieux's house to have some new dresses made. Even though the youngest member of the company would have been extremely happy to have the opportunity to see Constance, Elise still trusted Porthos more. Besides, Athos wanted to avoid a new confrontation between d'Artagnan and Constance's husband.

The Captain's letter was rather succinct. He wrote that the criminal in prison had been released; they hoped he would lead them to his employer. Meanwhile, there were men near the mansion whose orders were to intercept young Christophe if he came back. But there were not enough leads to follow. The entire city of Orléans knew what had happened so if the boy was still close, he would probably not go to his house. The best the Captain could do was watch all the roads and the places where the boy might go looking for food.

"It seems that you will be stuck giving out orders longer than you expected," d'Artagnan stated and Athos stared at him gloomily.

"Lighten up, will you? There are worst things in the world than your position."

"Aramis is right. You could be a poor sick drunkard living in the street."

"Exactly, whereas now, you may be a poor drunkard but you aren't sick and at least you have a roof to sleep under." Aramis ducked to avoid the apple Athos threw in his direction.

"And, I am sure ladies must look at you even more with your newly acquired glory. I mean, you command the Musketeers" d'Artagnan ducked as well.

"God knows these men are hard to control. I'd be amazed if I made it one month without murdering one of them if I were in charge," Aramis added, speaking only to d'Artagnan. Athos growled, standing up from his bench. He slapped both their heads when he passed behind them.

"Show a little more respect or you may indeed be the first ones on this murder list. Now, if you'll excuse me, the King has requested my presence."

His two friends were not at all frightened by his threats and curtsied mockingly as he left.

* * *

At the Palace, Athos was surprised to realize his presence had not been requested by the King, but by the Queen. She met him in the gardens, as always followed by her two ladies-in-waiting. They were quickly dismissed, though, on some errand which would probably take a long time to perform. Athos had not been alone with the Queen since the attack at the convent. He had not had the chance to finish the conversation he had started with Aramis before the latter left for Orléans. The Musketeer was uneasy being alone with her Majesty, as he knew things he should not.

"Shall we walk, Sir Athos? The weather is too gorgeous to stay indoors."

"Whatever your Majesty wishes," he bowed his head lightly and took his place on her right side, always a small step behind her.

"I desired to know your feelings about your new duties."

"I am very grateful that your Majesty trusted me in such a position. I am perfectly content." Sometimes, one had to lie, especially when you were talking to the Queen of France.

"I am happy to hear it. Now, the King and I have a special request for you and your Musketeers. I cherish the Dauphin's life more than my own, so we decided that adding a Musketeer guard to his protection was indispensable."

"A very thoughtful idea. I know of one or two men who are well-fitted for such a task."

"We do not simply wish for a daytime guard. The heir to the throne requires a constant watch. You will assign Musketeers to watch over the royal nursery at night."

"Very well. I …."

"I want Aramis to be on the schedule," the Queen cut him off, stopping behind a large tree and facing her companion.

"With all due respect, I do not think it is such a good idea..."

"Let's not play around, Athos. I know that you know. I trust you will not betray neither your friend nor your Queen. Nevertheless, if I do not allow Aramis to see the baby once in a while, he may well end up doing some foolish actions. God only knows what the consequences would be. This situation is my fault and I must make it as right as I can."

"I do not mean to offend her Majesty but... it is also Aramis's fault."

The Queen laughed softly, resuming her walking.

"You are right, of course. To me, it is so unfair that he will be unable to take a prominent place in my baby's life. I wish to make him less miserable. You should have seen him the last time he was in the nursery. He did not look like anything I had seen before. I wish the King showed as much love and joy in holding his son as your friend did."

"If it is what her Majesty desires, then I will give the necessary orders so that this watch can be put in place as soon as possible."

"Be sure to send a weekly schedule to my apartments so I know who works when."

"Absolutely."

"Thank you," the Queen concluded, squeezing quickly Athos's hand. They had come back near the Palace. He bowed respectfully, and waited for her footsteps to faint before leaving the grounds.

Athos was aware that his friend had been careless in the past when it came to the royal child. He would have never believed that Aramis would struck such a deal with the Queen. His sole comfort was that this scheme was official and no Musketeer would be convicted because they were found near the nursery. Still, he could not shake the apprehension that something may go wrong. If she thought her arrangement was foolproof, the Queen may become less careful as well. He would have to make sure that Aramis was more on daytime watch than night time. And too bad if her Majesty disliked it.

* * *

Back at the Garrison, Athos found his friends in the kitchen, boasting about past achievements to Elise and Constance. The Captain's niece was finally wearing a proper dress. It restored some of her status, even if her face was still a shocking reminder of what she had been through. There was a sadness in her eyes that Athos knew too well. But right now, she seemed to be rather enjoying herself.

"Athos! You survived! What did the King want?" d'Artagnan asked.

"I did not see the King. I met with the Queen." He pointedly stared at Aramis who appeared to be greatly interested in the news. He knew what the conversation had been about. He may have known for days.

"The Queen!" Elise said dreamily. "How is she really? We hear so many rumours about her in the countryside. I doubt hardly half of it is true. Some say she's as graceful as an angel and some say she speaks with a dreadful accent."

"She does have the grace of an angel and even their looks but, ah...you know... the clothes must contribute a lot to this vision. The clothes and the hair and all these artificial tricks," Aramis added quickly after he saw the daggers thrown in his direction by Atho's eyes.

"Anyway, I've been asked to add a Musketeer to the Dauphin's protection. During day and night."

"Boooooring," Porthos yawned. Watching over a baby had to be the worst mission ever.

"I'm glad to see you are so ready to serve your future king. You'll be the first appointed then. And you the second," Athos decided, stopping d'Artagnan from laughing at once. Aramis was looking at him with apprehension. Against his better judgement, Athos had no choice. "You'll be third, Aramis. I'm going to write down a proper schedule so the same persons do not end up spending all their nights at the Palace."

After he left, Aramis stayed with the others a little more, too happy to worry about what his friend might be thinking of this arrangement with the Queen. He could not wait to be back in the nursery with his son. He'd have to send a word to Marguerite as well. With all the recent incidents, he had almost forgotten about her. He could use some company in a time like this.

On the other hand, it was also nice to spend time with Elise even when she was not feeling at her best. They had grown quite close, especially since he was still caring for her injuries. She trusted him and Porthos more than the others and would often come to them to talk or simply to be close to someone, content to remain silent. It was never good to be alone when you were grieving so he gladly accepted to support her however she needed it.

It appeared that Constance and the young girl might have struck a friendship while they were creating some new garments. It was a good thing for both of them. Elise always worried that she knew no one in the capital city and that it was not really proper for a young woman to stay in a military garrison full of men. Her situation was not ordinary, as Athos had reminded her, so there was no need to fret about such futilities. Yet, having a female companion could only be beneficial.

Aramis could actually use a female companion tonight, too. Unscrupulous and without a hint of guilt, he decided to find some paper to send a message to Marguerite.

"Well, I must take my leave well. I have other activities requiring my attention."

"Send Marguerite my regards," Porthos joked with a wink.

"You don't even know her."

"After what you told me, it feels like I do."

Constance shook her head with disgust, seeing the shocked expression on Elise's face.

"Musketeers! So rude. Don't listen to them, Elise, or they will have a bad influence on you."

"As if you could give advice on that!" d'Artagnan smirked, and Constance swatted his hand playfully.

"Yes, I can. Musketeers have been wrecking my life for almost two years now."

"You don't seem to be complaining much about it." d'Artagnan was not deterred by her accusations, and stood to kiss her cheek. She did not stop him, smiling almost against herself at the kind gesture.

Elise did not know what to make of her situation. She liked the company of the Musketeers and of her newly-found friend. They were funny and loud and rude, and even though she was not used to such an attitude, it was a good distraction from her sorrow. What she liked more than anything else was Aramis's company, though, and to learn that he had female friends of his own, friends with whom he did things Elise did not dare think about, it hurt her a little.

She tried to dismiss the thought, because she had no right to have this feeling, but she could not. She was in trouble.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter VIII

Two weeks later, Aramis finally performed his first official royal baby night watch. He suspected Athos of having delayed this moment as much as possible. If he had been the only to decide he may not even have put his friend on the schedule, but it was a direct order from the Queen and he could only postpone it so long before she realized what was happening.

Aramis saw his child during daytime, though. He was even on duty when the Dauphin took his first stroll in the Palace's gardens. He had rejoiced in the vision of the baby happily settled in his pram, a nurse pushing it while the Queen walked by its side. The Musketeer knew the mother would have wanted to be the one behind the pram but the royal protocol would not allow it. Keeping watch a few yards behind the Queen's entourage, he had enjoyed hearing his son's babbling. It was spring, the sun was shining and the weather was rather mild. It was a perfect afternoon. It was difficult for him to keep a straight face on and not be distracted from his mission.

Apart from this one time, the only news he had of the baby were from Marguerite. They saw each other quite a lot and she would sometimes share a few information about her day before moving on to what really interested her when she saw the Musketeer. Now that he did not have to use tricks to see baby Louis, Aramis soon realized that the governess was not as bad as he had first thought. She could be quite clever at times, and he enjoyed spending time in bed with her. But she seemed to be growing too fond of him, and he did not want _that_ to happen. He had no romantic intention towards her. He could not afford to be romantic anymore as it never ended well for him.

Tonight, Marguerite was not looking after the Dauphin, which meant that when Aramis took his guard, he had to stay outside the door of the nursery. There was another nurse inside, he could hear her talk quietly to the baby, and he was pacing back and forth, raging inside to be so close and yet so far. His hand instinctively went to touch the locket under his shirt.

He heard footsteps coming in his direction and stopped moving. Instead, he stood very still as it was expected of a proper guard. When he realized it was the Queen, he relaxed his shoulders and smiled, bowing respectfully.

"Good evening, your Majesty."

"Good evening, Aramis. I was beginning to fear that Athos had forgotten you." She returned his smile, stopping next to him. She was still wearing one of her heavy dresses, her hair up in an intricate and complicated fashion. It must not be very comfortable, Aramis thought.

"He didn't want it to be 'too suspicious', that's all. His words, not mine."

"We must thank him for his discretion, then. What matters is that you are here, now. One more moment of patience."

She entered the nursery. There was some shuffling and hushed orders before the nurse left the room. Aramis waited a couple of seconds for her to disappear round a corner, and he joined the Queen and the baby. As she held the child in her arms, there was not an ounce of concern on her face. She did not look like the Queen of France anymore. She was simply a young mother taking care of her son, and loving him with all her heart. There was a big smile on her face when she looked up at Aramis who was standing by her side.

"He's grown," he stated proudly.

"They do tend to do that."

"Your Majesty should not make fun of me." He extended his hand to touch the ever-growing hair on his son's head. The skin of his face was so soft that Aramis feared he would scratch it with his rough fingers.

"He does not seem to want to sleep. Come on." The Queen went to sit on the bed, laying her child on the heavy bedspread. The Musketeer rid himself of all his weapons then joined them, half-sitting, half-lying on the bed.

They spent some time in comfortable silence, their son holding one of their fingers in each of his hands. Aramis noted every little change which had occurred since the last time he had seen him. Baby Louis was indeed a bit taller and a lot chubbier. He was also smiling a lot, returning his father's smile. It was doubtful he remembered this face from almost a month ago, but with time, he may start to recognize the Musketeer's features. It was all Aramis wished for.

"He enjoyed his stroll in the gardens last week."

"I did, too. It was nice to see him in daylight. No matter if I'm close or far away, whenever I have the opportunity to spend some time in his vicinity, I am content."

"It is a pity the weather has taken a turn for the worse. This rain forces us all to remain indoors," the Queen sighed. "Hopefully, there will be many more walks and afternoons in the gardens soon."

"I hope so."

"Do you? From what I heard, Marguerite quite appreciates it when it rains and she has to stay inside with you." Aramis was astounded by what he was hearing. He pulled his eyes away from the baby and for a second, he thought he saw the Queen blush.

"I did not think you knew. If your Majesty wishes I stop seeing Marguerite, then I..."

"Why would I want such a thing? I have no right to tell you who to see and not see. It only concerns you. No, I...I simply intended to make a joke. However, I do not think it is a talent I possess."

This time, he laughed. Tonight, in this nursery, she had clearly ceased to be a Queen to be a normal young girl. She was adorable, even when she failed to achieve her goal.

"My friend Porthos would have found it very entertaining, your Majesty."

She was somewhat reassured. Her attention returned to the Dauphin who was now sucking on his father's index. It warmed her heart to see that Aramis did not mind having his hand covered in dribble. Her sole regret was that these small touching moments could only happen behind closed doors and that no one else could never know about them. It would forever remain the greatest injustice of her life.

"Have you heard from Captain Tréville yet?" she asked after many minutes of silence.

"The last we heard of him was at the beginning of the week. He sent a letter saying that there was some progress. Still no sign of his nephew, but they may have found the one who commissioned the attack. Although they require some proof before actually confronting him, it should not be too long before they do."

"That is some progress, indeed. It must have been terrible witnessing all of this in Orléans."

"I have seen worse, your Majesty. It's my job as a soldier. What was heartbreaking was having to care for Elise after she had lost everyone she loved."

"Elise...?"

"She's Captain Tréville's niece. She was held hostage by the bandits. I dressed her wounds there before we took her back to Paris with us. She's been staying at the Garrison ever since."

"Poor soul. Losing her parents in such a tragedy. She was fortunate you were here to take care of her. How is she doing now?"

"There are good days and bad days. On the bright side, her shoulder is healing so nicely I could almost be a better physician than the royal surgeon," Aramis boasted with a cheeky smile. It was easy to forget he was talking to the Queen when the conversation was flowing so easily without all the tedious rules of protocol to complicate it. "But she's grieving and she hardly knows anyone in the city. I believe she feels very lonely, which is never good in such a situation."

"That will not do. I shall invite her to the Palace. It will give her a distraction and a chance to see if you have indeed chosen the wrong career."

"Your Majesty should be careful. I think spending time with me is leading you to copy my sense of humour. Some would say it is not for the best."

"I am the Queen and I will do whatever I please even though you are right. I must be more careful." A shadow passed before her eyes, as if she realized that she could not allow herself to be too carefree even in private. "I will write a note to Elise and you will deliver it to her." She stood up from the bed and left for the adjacent room. Aramis took the chance to completely lie down and he put his head next to the baby's so that their hair touched. He gazed into the curious eyes, the little fingers poking his cheeks, his mouth and his nose. It was the best sensation in the world.

"I hope you have a good sense of humour, Louis. You will drive your mother mad, just like I did with your grandmother. It was good fun," Aramis whispered. Being the heir to the throne of France would certainly prove to be a boring life. As a small child, his son would hardly be allowed any good distraction and everyone around him would mind their every word, too afraid to offend him. The Musketeer hoped his friends and him would still be around then, to provide some kind of fun.

* * *

Aramis was woken up by the Queen gently touching his shoulder. He must have dozed off watching his son sleep.

"It's late and I wish to retire to my own bed chamber. I have rung the nurse so she should be back soon. You should take your position outside the door before she arrives."

"Of course. I'm sorry I fell asleep."

"No need to apologise. I actually quite enjoyed watching you both sleep. Be sure to give this to Elise when you see her in the morning," she put a square piece of paper in his hand.

Aramis kissed his child good night, then went back to assume his position, extremely happy with the moments spent with the Queen and the baby. He did not even mind having to stay in the corridor a couple more hours.

* * *

After resting for a few hours in his own room at the Garrison, Aramis came face to face with Athos once he stepped in the hallway. The older man must have been waiting for him.

"I trust you did not do anything stupid last night."

"Good morning to you, as well. I 'm very fine today, thank you for asking. And no, I did not do anything stupid. The Queen was with me the entire time. As a matter of fact, she gave me a letter to deliver to Elise so if you don't mind..."

"What letter? What did you tell her Majesty?"

"Only the truth. The Queen wants to meet Elise, that's all. She feels sorry for her."

Athos relaxed, but still looked grumpy. He followed Aramis up the stairs to Elise's room. She was sitting on a chair, reading, when they came in. Her eyes were red from crying, and she was still wearing a black shawl over her shoulders to hide her injury. She did not like it one bit, and dreaded the scar it would leave.

"Good morning, Elise," Aramis declared, smiling back at her. "I have a very important message for you."

"From my uncle?"

"No...It may not be so important after all, but you will certainly enjoy it. It comes from the Queen."

"The Queen? The Queen has written to me?" she sounded astonished. She stood up and quickly opened the letter handed to her. She held her breath while reading it. "She...she wants me to meet with her!" Elise was shocked. "Why?"

"She must have learnt your story and she may wish to show that she cares. The Queen is very fond of Captain Tréville."

"You will need an escort to the Palace. Does her Majesty give a time and a day for this audience?" Athos asked, always the pratical one. Elise nodded.

"Tomorrow afternoon. But I have nothing to wear. I've been wearing the same dress for days. I cannot possibly meet the Queen in a dirty dress!"

"Do not alarm yourself. I will send word to Mme Bonacieux to inquire if your other dress is ready. If not, I'm sure she will have one to lend to you."

Aramis was glad to see that apart from this clothing detail, Elise seemed extremely happy about the news. The Queen knew what to do to make her subjects cheerful.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter IX

Elise was terribly nervous. She kept smoothing out the front of her dress, and trying to check in one of the windows if her hair was still holding up. Aramis was aware people were always nervous when they met a monarch for the first time, but the young girl had barely slept last night. What had started as an idea to comfort her was beginning to become quite the opposite.

"Calm down," he eventually suggested, coming by her side. "There's no need to panic. She's not going to devour you."

"I know, but I can't help it. What if I make a fool of myself? What if I trip and fall?"

"Then I'll simply have to help you up again. Nobody has perished from tripping before and you will not be the first."

Elise touched her hair once again, and Aramis grabbed her hand, keeping a firm grip on the young girl so she would stop messing with her head. She found some comfort in the touch. He looked so sure of himself, so at ease in this big Palace that she envied him. Of course, he was used to working in this place, he was used to its ways and its people. It was part of his duties and he may have actually talked to the Queen and the King many times. She wished she could be as comfortable as he was, simply watching the rain patter on the windows. The weather was quite dreadful outside; there was a small pool of rain starting to form under Aramis's feet. His cape was soaking wet but he had not taken it off. Elise liked the blue of the Musketeers' capes.

A door opened behind them; she caught her breath, not daring take her hand out of Aramis's. Instead, she squeezed more strongly.

"Everything will be fine," he whispered before turning around. There were only the Queen and her two ladies-in-waiting. Aramis had seen these girls a hundred times, but he was not sure he knew their names. They were so plain and discreet, nobody paid any attention to them.

"Your Majesty," he bowed his head as he always did, taking off his hat. They shared a small smile. "Allow me to introduce Mademoiselle Elise Beauchamp, Captain Tréville's niece."

Elise finally turned around, her eyes down. She curtsied so low, Aramis indeed had to help her back up. The Queen could not help but notice the way their hands were twined.

"Your Majesty."

"My dear Elise, I have heard terrible things about your misadventures. I send you my deepest sympathies for your loss."

"Thank you, your Majesty."

"Will you sit with me a moment and keep me company?"

"It would be a great honour. Thank you."

The Queen walked towards a sumptuous couch which took an entire corner of the room. There was a small table next to it with many cakes and some refreshment on it. Elise hesitated, unsure about where to sit. She knew hardly nothing about the royal protocol. Was she supposed to serve the Queen? Was she supposed to sit quite close to her or on the contrary as far away as possible?

"Do not be shy. I am not known for my cruelty toward my guests. I'm certain Monsieur Aramis can confirm this."

"Of course, your Majesty. Don't be afraid. I'll stay right here. Nothing will happen to you." He smiled to encourage Elise who eventually went to sit on the couch. The Musketeer was aware that despite her apprehension to be so close to the Queen, she was always frightened that another attack would happen. She was in a place unknown to her, where she barely knew anyone except him. You could not blame her for being uneasy.

Aramis waited idly by the window the entire time the audience lasted. It seemed like forever to him. There was nothing to do but stand still and try not to listen to the women's conversation. The two guards standing by the door seemed quite fine with their duty, but they were more used to it. It was a torture for the Musketeer to do nothing.

The Queen enjoyed her conversation with Elise even though the girl remained rather shy. But after all, she was used to people being reserved and cautious when they talked to their monarch. It was a nice distraction to meet someone new who had so much to say about the fine King's Musketeers. It was impressive how often Elise would glance at Aramis, silently making sure that he was still in the room. Anne doubted her guest was even aware of it.

They eventually parted ways an hour or so later, and Aramis breathed the fresh air deeply as soon as he and Elise were outside. To be completely honest, she was glad it was over. She had loved meeting the Queen, yet it had put a great strain on her. She felt exhausted.

"Was it so unbearable for you?" she asked, putting on her still wet cape. It was only raining lightly now. They were going to walk back to the Garrison.

"You have no idea. Standing still and not doing anything is the worse that can happen to a soldier."

"You must be bored out of your mind when you have to guard the Dauphin at night."

"Indeed, but it has to be done." He thanked his natural ability to lie easily. "I hope you enjoyed your audience a little?" he asked, changing the subject.

"The Queen does not resemble anything I have heard. I wish there was someone back at home with whom I could share what just happened to me." She sighed.

"You have a friend in Paris. I'm sure Constance would like hearing your tale."

"You're right. I believe my life is in Paris now. I simply wish circumstances were different."

"Is staying with us such an hindrance?"

"Absolutely not, this is not what I meant," she added quickly, her cheeks getting pinker. Her eyes stayed resolutely on the merchant stands they were passing on the street. "I did not think I would find the company of Musketeers so..."

"Delightful?" he offered. "Inspiring? Marvellous?"

"I was going to say...comforting."

"Oh, I'll take that, too. We live to make your life better, Mademoiselle."

Elise was too embarrassed to say another word for the rest of the walk. It was true that when she thought of it, the adjectives he had used applied to her feelings as well. It was unsettling for her. She barely acknowledged Porthos and d'Artagnan who were practising some moves in the Garrison courtyard. Instead, she dashed up the stairs to disappear inside. The Musketeers gave puzzled looks to their friends.

"What's with her? Did something go wrong at the Palace?"

"Not at all, but I fear she is not used to being teased."

"What did you say to her?" Porthos rolled his eyes. His friend would never change.

"Nothing dramatic, I swear. I merely wanted to cheer her up, but she has not yet grown accustomed enough to us to properly enjoy it."

"Nevertheless, I think you should tone it down. You know I could not care less about all your adventures with other women except when it falls on me to save you from furious husbands. But she is the Captain's niece. I'm not sure he would appreciate it if you broke Elise's heart."

"That's one scolding I would like to see," d'Artagnan chimed in. Aramis threw him a dark look.

"Who said anything about breaking her heart?"

"She likes you," Porthos stated pointedly.

Aramis rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. He did notice it, too. He had been the one taking care of her wounds which had led her to spend much more time with him than the others. She may actually just like him because of this. Wasn't it typical to take a fancy in a person you saw like a saviour?

"It will pass as soon as the Captain is back and he finds her more appropriate lodgings. Now, let's go find us some wine. You're starting to sound like my mother."

########

Later that night, Elise was in her room, trying to focus on her book. There was hardly anything else she could do to keep herself busy in this place. Sometimes, she wondered about what would happen to her once her uncle was back. Before he left, it had been decided that she would stay at the Garrison where she would have good protection and would lack nothing essential. What would become of her after? Her uncle lived here like the other Musketeers. She had no other family with whom she could stay. One thing was for sure, she did not want to end up in a convent. What other options did she have left? She had some cooking skills, she could sew a little, she could write and read, but it was not enough to earn a living on her own. Besides, she was not sure Tréville would allow it.

She closed the book and put it on the table. There was no chance she could concentrate on the poetry with so many thoughts on her mind. Her shoulder was itching under her sleeve. According to Aramis, it meant that she was healing in a perfect way, but he had forbidden her from scratching the scar. Once, she had done it in her sleep, only to wake up with blood soaking her bed clothes. He had given some sort of ointment to calm the fire under her skin.

Elise rubbed it absent-mindedly, Aramis now taking up most of her thoughts. It was a distraction she had not expected, one she was not prepared for. Sometimes, she actually felt rather stupid. She was only a girl, knowing almost nothing of the world, and he was a soldier. Judging by what she heard around the Garrison and what she remembered, he was a great soldier. And women liked him a lot. Leave it to her to become infatuated with the most popular Musketeer. It was foolish to imagine he liked her back merely because he spent much time with her.

However, no matter how much time they spent together, alone or with the others, she realized that she knew little about him or his life. He was very quiet went it came to his personal life. Once or twice, she had caught him toying with the necklaces around his neck, but he had stopped as soon he noticed her watching. Some other times, while the others were joking and laughing, he would just stare in front of him, not a hint of joy on his face. He seemed sad and concerned as if all the problems of the kingdom were on his shoulders. It was not the attitude of the reckless man people described when they talked about Aramis.

Elise sighed, clutching the blanket to keep warm. The weather was definitely chilly for late April. The rain was not helping. Unable to sleep, she decided to leave the room and walk around the empty corridors. Most the Musketeers were either some place else on duty or out in town. Sometimes, she felt like she was alone at night. The quietness was greatly appreciated to calm her busy mind. However, tonight did not appear to follow the same pattern.

She heard heavy steps coming up the stairs as if someone was running and a door banged loudly. Curious as ever, she walked in the direction of the racket. Horses were heard in the courtyard as if a a battalion was being assembled. Although when she stepped outside on the balcony, she realized her assumption was a big exaggeration. There were three Musketeers mounting horses, and only one which was distressed by the thunder and was making anxious noises.

There was another roll of thunder and Elise retreated inside, grateful for the security of the walls. A door opened to her right and she came face to face with Porthos. He did not see her and ran straight into her, toppling her to the ground.

"So sorry, Miss. 'Did not see you here. Le' me help you up." Without waiting for her answer he grabbed her hand and pulled her up. There was so much strength in his arm that her feet left the floor for a couple of seconds. Feeling dizzy, she caught the nearest wall to steady herself.

"Wishing you goo'night, Miss." Porthos tapped his hat and left her.

"What's with him?" she asked Athos who was arming his pistol while walking.

"Porthos? He's drunk, and not at all fit for a new mission. But we've been summoned to the Palace so he does not have a choice."

"Something's happened?"

"Nothing that should worry you. I've received word that the King has taken ill so we are reinforcing his security. In my experience, criminals often take advantage of weak moments to attack. You will be safe here. You should go back to your room."

Rubbing her back to ease the pain, Elise walked back to her tiny room, wishing once again to be back home where life was quieter and less eventful.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter X

The King's illness turned out to be a simple fever and it was quickly cured by his physician. The cold weather was certainly responsible. Even Constance was not feeling good when the young girl went to visit her a couple of days later.

Elise enjoyed meeting with the woman and Aramis had been right; it was a pleasure to discuss with her. The older woman had some tales to tell about the Musketeers and about life in Paris. Elise could listen to her for hours. It would make her forget that she still had no news of her brother and her uncle. She knew she could not lose hope, but it was difficult when no progress was made. She was spending more and more time in the chapel, praying.

Constance made her feel comfortable enough to be trusted with the story of the tragic attack. It was the first time Elise had told it directly to someone and she found it difficult to remain focused and not end up crying in public. On the other hand, she felt better when she was finished, as if something had been lifted from her heart.

"Our Musketeers will never cease to impress me with their heroic actions. It's a good thing they remember their duty once in a while because their behaviour generally leaves room for improvement."

"They can be childish sometimes," Elise conceded.

"You're being gentle when using such a word. They are so...infuriating at times!" Constance shook her head, and Elise laughed quietly. Having a friend like Constance could make her stay in Paris less complicated, she thought a while later as she was walking back to the Garrison. D'Artagnan was her escort. She was not sure what was going on between the soldier and Constance. They looked at each other with looks of complete adoration, but Elise knew she was married, she had seen Mr Bonacieux a couple of times in the past. Were all Musketeers womanisers?

* * *

At supper that night, the four friends joined the girl, which did not happen often. Athos was resenting more and more his new commanding duties, and the three others had learned to stop teasing him about it. Athos's wrath was feared within these walls.

Elise was amazed by the quantity of alcohol they could consume, and she wondered how much wine Porthos had drunk the night he pushed her to the floor. He was drinking heavily while eating yet he did not display any sign of intoxication. She had never imagined someone could drink so much.

However, she was more concerned by Aramis's attitude. Ever since he accompanied her to the Palace to meet the Queen, he was more distant with her. He would still greet her in the corridor, but he would never say more than a few words to her. If she listened to her heart, she would think that he was avoiding her, even though she could not begin to understand why. Even now, sitting across from her at the table, he barely looked at her, eating his food and joking with his friends, as if she was of no more importance than the bench he was sitting on. Of course, he must have been thinking of one of his lovers. There was no room in his thoughts for poor Elise.

Having just lost her appetite, Elise pushed her plate from her and crossed her arms. She did not want to leave because the room was warm and she did not wish to be by herself. Nevertheless, she did not enjoy being here any more. She looked around to see who else was in the room. Since she spent a lot of time at the Garrison she knew all the Musketeers by name. They were all very courteous and nice with her.

Four of them had just entered to feed. They were coming back from the Palace, Elise gathered. The King had thrown a fit about some new painting, which was proof that he was completely healed. The new problem at present was that the Dauphin seemed to have fallen ill, as well, and you could not cure a baby as you cured a grown man. At these words, several things happened at once.

First, Athos stood up next to Elise, probably anticipating new orders to arrive. Aramis dropped his food on his plate, his eyes strained on the four Musketeers sitting at the other table.

"What..."

"Aramis." With a simple word, Athos stopped his friend from speaking. All the colour was gone from the soldier's face. He was as pale as a ghost, as if he was the sick one.

Then, Porthos, whose legs were propped on the table, laughed loudly at his friend's white complexion and lost his balance. He fell to the floor, wine soaking his uniform. D'Artagnan was too busy mocking him to help him up. Elise took pity and went to help him on his feet. When they stood up, Aramis and Athos were on their way out the door, having what looked like a heated argument.

"You will remain in your quarters. It's an order!" Athos hissed, anger pouring from his voice, the muscle on his throat clenched. For one second, Elise was actually frightened for the other Musketeer. Aramis challenged Athos's gaze. If looks could kill, she was unsure who would have died at this staring contest. Eventually, Aramis secured his hat on his head and left.

"What was that about?" asked d'Artagnan, confused. Elise was as confused.

"He must be afraid his precious Marguerite will catch the same disease as the royals," Porthos ventured.

"I'll inquire to see if they need more of us at the Palace," Athos decided, neither answering d'Artagnan's question nor confirming Porthos's hypothethis.

* * *

Orders did come from the Palace for more protection so the same routine as when the King was ill started again. Unfortunately, the Dauphin was not even six months old and his body could not fight off the fever as well as an adult could. Every time someone came back to the barracks, the news was that his health had not improved and that his parents were seriously worried.

Poor little fellow, thought Elise as she was walking to the chapel. She did not know if her prayers were of help, but she could always try. It was early in the morning; she preferred to come before her breakfast because she was usually alone and she found solace in the peaceful and quiet environment. Yet, there was someone else kneeling down by the altar when she arrived. She was going to turn around when she heard his whispered prayer and recognized his voice. Elise was so stunned by the desperation in Aramis's words, half of them in Spanish, that she did not find the strength to give him some privacy.

"Merciful God, do not punish him for my sins. Punish me. Do not punish him. He's so frail and defenceless. Punish me instead. I will endure whatever catastrophe you deem appropriate but not him. Please, not him. He's everything I have. I beg you, my Lord, find some other way to torture me. I cannot save him from this. I promised I would always protect him, God. I promised. I must keep this promise. Please, hear my words and save him. I've always respected you. I know I've made more mistakes than I could count and one day, I will gladly face your Judgement, but do not inflict this on him. He's so young and tiny and he will accomplish so much. Give him a chance. Save him, heal him. If not for me, do it for his mother. My God, please..."

The rest was drowned in Spanish. Elise was puzzled by what she had heard, but prayers hardly made sense for people other than those saying them. She doubted the Musketeer would appreciate to know she had overheard him, even though she had no ill intentions. While trying to make a hushed retreat, her arm pressed against one of the candlesticks, and it fell to the floor. The noise it made on the stone floor echoed in the silence of the chapel. Elise closed her eyes, cursing her clumsiness.

"Who's there?" Aramis asked, tension perceptible in his voice. He turned around slowly, one hand on the pommel of his sword.

"It's me, Elise. I'm sorry I disturbed you. I didn't mean to intrude. I often come here to pray." Words came rushing out of her mouth.

"You do not need to apologise." Aramis relaxed, sitting on the front bench, his back to her.

"I will come back later."

"I do not own the place, Elise. Stay and pray if you want to."

She did not move, standing still at the back of the church. When it was clear that he was not going to leave either, she walked forward, sitting behind him.

"I could not help but hear you...I did not know you spoke Spanish."

"I was raised not far away from the Spanish border. My mother is of Spanish-descent herself. Even being half-Spaniard is not something people boast about in Paris nowadays."

"Where is she now?"

"They're both dead. They died when I was younger. Everybody dies in my family...Please, make it stop, make it stop, God..." Aramis put his head in his hands, his body sagging in front of Elise. She had never seen him like that. It had not even crossed her mind that this Musketeer could feel so weak one day. Her heart broke a little for him. She put her hand on his shoulder to show her sympathy.

"The person you are praying for, he is also part of your family?"

"No...yes...it's complicated. You should not ask questions like this, Elise. It's too dangerous."

"I've been living a dangerous life lately, and if I've learnt one thing since coming to Paris, it's that talking about your trials can be of help."

"Not this time. You must trust me when I tell that it could get you killed. Do not try your luck."

"I'm sure you would be there to save me yet again if someone threatened my life."

"Perhaps not this time. This is a burden I must carry alone." His voice quivered. Aramis turned around to face her. The hand she had on his shoulder fell to her side. He looked dreadful. There were huge sleeping bags under his eyes as if he had not rested in days. Elise did not remember seeing him since Athos had ordered him to remain in his quarters. What has he been up to?

Resolute, she stood up and went to sit right next to him. He was in too bad a shape to stay by himself. She would care for him as he had cared for her when she was traumatized. She held in hands in hers.

"God did not create us to face troubles by ourselves. You don't want to tell, that's fine, but I will not let you suffer alone." He granted her a small smile. This girl was quite stubborn at time and right now, he was not strong enough to push her away. On the contrary, he welcomed her compassion. "I will pray with you. The man you are worried about, does he have a name?"

"Louis. His name is Louis."

"Just like the King!" Elise remarked innocently. "With a name like that, he cannot stay in trouble for too long."

"He's sick. Very sick and they don't know if they can save him."

"You know a few medicinal tricks, Aramis, you proved so while taking care of me. Can't you help him?"

"I'm not allowed to see him. Elise, you must stop. Please, stop. I'm going to put you in danger." Aramis broke free and suddenly stood up from the bench. He signed himself, kissed the cross that never left his neck and made for the exit. Elise could hardly contain her anger, although she knew this type of emotion did not belong in a chapel.

"So, I guess I am not even good enough to comfort you, is that it?"

"What?"

"You don't talk to me anymore, you barely acknowledge my presence at the Garrison and when I try just a little to show that I care and that I want to be your friend, you dismiss it. Am I not good enough to be your friend?"

In other circumstances, Aramis would have laughed at the way her face turned red, but he was in no mood to laugh at anything lately; he was too worried for his son. He was dying to rush to the nursery, to take the baby in his arms and soothe him. He would die if he had to watch his child pass away without being able to help.

"It has nothing to do with _you_, Elise. Believe me. This story is too big for you as it is for everybody else. I care too much for your life to drag you along with me."

"And I believe that this is my decision to make."

"No." He had not expected the slap. Elise took the decision so fast that she looked as surprised as he was. He may have gone too far and she would never understand that he was protecting her from treason.

"I did not know you had it in you," he sounded impressed.

"I'm not going to apologise." Her cheeks were so red he could almost see the fire burning in her eyes, as well as a bit of shame.

"I don't expect you, too. You'll never understand why I'm not talking to you, but I hope that you will forgive me one day. I will find some other place to pray. Good bye."

"Wait!" She reached out for his hand, stopping him. How ever furious she was with him making decisions in her stead, she could not forget how miserable he was. It took some self-discipline to push her feelings aside, but she took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. "Stay. I won't ask questions, you have my word. Two prayers are more powerful than one. Come on."

It was as if she was leading a small child as they walked back to a bench. She let go of his hand, and he took off his necklace, holding the cross in his hand, closing his eyes in silent meditation.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I borrowed two lines from the BBC. The storyline belongs to my imagination

* * *

Chapter XI

Elise and Aramis stayed in the chapel for a long time. They mainly stayed silent except for some moments were the soldier would break the peace by voicing his prayer out loud. She could not decide if he was aware of it or not, so she never made a remark. There were always the same words: "Please, save him. Take me instead." And then there was the Spanish, but she did not comprehend a word of this tongue. What she enjoyed was the way the words rolled on his tongue, more easily than the French. The French sounded harsh in comparison.

Breaskfast time must have come and gone when Aramis eventually stretched his arms, ready to leave. Elise felt groggy. It was rather cold in here when you did not move. He held her hand to help up to her feet.

"Thank you for staying. And for putting up with my bad mood."

"Thank you for not thinking I'm crazy. I wish I could do more to help."

"So do I...," he sighed, clutching his necklaces.

"They remind you of him, your friend." It was not a question. "Was he the one who gave them to you? The one whose life you saved?" Aramis cocked his head to the side. She understood her mistake and bit her lip. "Of course. No more questions."

"Thank you." He took her hand and kissed it gallantly. It warmed Elise's heart and she smiled. At least he did not think ill of her for slapping him.

"Shouldn't you go back to the Garrison? Athos will be looking for you."

"You are right. Let's not have him think I deserted my quarters. He will be worse than the Devil if he believes so."

They were back in the courtyard when Elise finally found the courage to ask what was going on between the two friends.

"Have you really done something _that_ bad for Athos to keep you here?" Aramis stopped and faced her. His face as serious as it would ever be, but sad at the same time. He seemed to consider answering this question, too, then he sighed.

"I haven't done anything yet. He's only doing it to protect me. He's protecting me, you, him, everybody of what would happen _if_ I did end up doing something." Too many secrets, too many hidden meanings in these words. Elise's head was beginning to ache. After a few seconds, she understood.

"He's keeping you from seeing your friend. But I do not understand...Your friend is sick. Surely it would be a comfort for him to see you, why would Athos want to keep you away?"

"Dear Elise, stop thinking too hard about it. Go back to your room, go see Constance, do something and please, don't concern yourself with my problems. I'll be fine."

Aramis smiled widely at her. However, his eyes were saying something else entirely. The morning had greatly confused her, she could not wrap her head around what she had learned, although she did not know herself what she had actually learned. What mattered was that Aramis was not at all himself, and that would not do.

* * *

Elise was browsing the small collection of books in her uncle's office, desperate to find something new, when Porthos bursted through the door, followed by Athos, d'Artagnan and Aramis.

"Captain Tréville has found your brother!" She may have fallen to the floor with relief if Athos had not been here to support her.

"Where? When? How is he?" She sat down at the desk, her heart beating against her chest.

"In his letter, he says they found him yesterday, and he seems well. There is no further information. I believe they will be detained in Orléans a few more days. There is so much more to settle before you can be reunited." She let out a deep breath. The men looked happy, too, as if they were the ones who had performed yet another successful mission.

"We'll drink to the good news!" Porthos ignored Athos's stern look when he opened a small cupboard, took out five glasses and a bottle of Armagnac.

"I'm not sure I should do that..."

"Nonsense. Enjoy the last moments of your freedom before the Captain is back!" Porthos said, filling her glass to the brink. Athos raised an eyebrow. The three others ignored him and emptied their own glass. The older Musketeer eventually did the same, glad to know that his commanding days would soon be over. Elise smelled her glass doubtfully. The last time she had drunk was before Aramis stitched her shoulder up.

She closed her eyes, thinking how happy she was to see her brother again very soon. She took one sip of her drink, but it burned her throat. The Musketeers laughed at her face and d'Artagnan was about to take her glass away, but she stopped him. It would not be said that she could not finish it. She swallowed all of it at once, and did not feel her mouth for the rest of the night. It was suddenly really hot around and inside her.

"There you go! That's our girl!" Someone slapped her back and she felt like she truly belonged among them. Her eyes crossed Aramis's and he raised his glass toward her before drinking slowly.

"We should find her something to eat or she may be sick."

Elise felt even happier now and she was smiling all the way down to the kitchen, where they all sat to share some bread and ham. Her head slowly cleared, she had only drunk one glass after all, and she spent the rest of the evening watching Porthos and d'Artagnan play cards. Porthos was teaching the younger man some tricks that would ensure him to win every time. There was a good atmosphere between them. Elise had not a care in the world in that instant; for the first time in weeks, she felt truly and completely at peace with the world.

"I won!" exclaimed d'Artagnan, startling her. "I won!"

"So you did...Well done!" Porthos seemed upset for a moment then his face lit up. He was proud of his friend, as a professor would be of his student. Elise chose to retire to her room on this good note. The two Musketeers bid her good night and went back to their game.

There were some hushed voices heard in the corridor as she was walking up the stairs. The voices were unmistakable and this time, they did not seem to be fighting.

"André said he heard a nurse say they had sent for another physician. One who is known to cure all fevers. Everything isn't lost, Aramis."

"It's been two days already. He is so little, he must be in excruciating pain. There must _be_ something else to do but send for more clueless physicians."

"All we can do is pray, my friend. In our position, there isn't another option. I feel for you. This story does you no good. I mean, look at you, you're a wreck." Elise heard Aramis laugh.

"Who would have thought it could get worse?" The voices grew closer and Elise flattened herself against the wall to remain unseen.

"Go get some rest. I doubt the Captain will let you idle in here when he is back." They rounded the corner, never taking the stairs. They must have been talking about Aramis's friend, the one who was sick. But he had a nurser? How old was this friend? Elise was more and more confused with any news she heard. She could not make sense of what was bothering Aramis. At least she wasn't the only one caring about him. Athos seemed to be a good support. He was right, though, Aramis _was_ a wreck today.

It may have been the last remnant of the alcohol making the decision for her, but Elise did not go back to her room. Instead, she took a different path and knocked on Aramis's door. He opened it quickly, wearing only a loose shirt. The surprised look on his face confirmed he did not expect to find her here.

"Is it a bad time?"

"Not at all."

"Good. Can I come in?"

"I don't think your uncle would like his niece to visit Musketeers in their rooms unsupervised."

"Then we shall not tell him about it." She walked past him, entering a room quite similar to hers, albeit smaller. She did not think it could be possible. Aramis shook his head, laughing. This girl could be trouble if he was not more careful.

"Please, have a seat," he offered, gesturing to his bed. There was simply no other comfortable place to sit in his room. She sat at the edge, taking on her surroundings.

"I hope you are better than this morning."

"A little bit, yes. Your good news cheered all of us up. I'm truly happy you can be with your brother again."

"God has answered my prayers. It's such a relief; I do not think I will be able to find sleep tonight. It's too much anticipation knowing I will see him soon." Aramis smiled, glad to hear she was in good spirits. He was glad for her company, too. His night would have been spent thinking about his son and about how useless he was. It made him hate his situation even more. No matter how many stolen meetings the Queen could offer, he would never be close for the important moments, whether joyful or desperate like today. He would forever be denied the chance to be a real father.

"Your prayers will soon be answered as well, Aramis. I'm sure that God will not forget you," Elise tried to reassure him, seeing the fear and bitterness pass on his face. He was so conflicted. He sat on the floor next to his bed. He had to look up to see her eyes when he talked.

"Sometimes I think God must be weary of me and of all I have done. What if he has abandoned me?"

"He has not. Not unless you stop believing in him. You carry him with you everyday." She pointed to the cross resting on his shirt. She hesitated before continuing. "Aramis, your friend Louis, the one you are praying for, how old is he?"

"Elise..."

"I know. No questions, but I wish I understood. I may be able to help."

"You already help more than others by being understanding. Your situation is far worse than mine, you should not fret about me."

"I would not be here tonight if it weren't for you, Aramis. I owe you my life. I want to be helpful even if you think there's nothing we can do. You can always pray. Do you want me to stay with you again?"

The soldier forced a laugh, standing up from the floor, shaking his head. She was too adorable. If he listened to his heart, he would have to admit he'd be sad when she finally moved from the Garrison and he could not see her every day.

"Surely, you must find me quite pathetic, locking myself up to pray endlessly."

"On the contrary. I think it shows that you have a heart and you use it. It takes some courage to abandon yourself to a prayer like you were doing this morning."

"I am a bit desperate, if you must know the truth."

"I am aware. You look sad most of the time, and I have to say, it does not suit you. I prefer when you smile. There you go!" she added when he grinned. "Someone with such beautiful eyes should smile more often."

"How much have you had to drink when we were not looking?" Aramis asked. He could not believe she would actually be talking to him like that if she was sober. He observed her more closely, but she was standing very still, not looking intoxicated. Apart from her flushed face, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Was he dreaming? What was she doing?

"Just the one drink. I'm serious, Aramis. I don't think your lovers appreciate it when you're brooding."

"My lovers? I... I don't have lover_s_. Well, I did...sometimes. But right now, there's no one. Well, there's ….hmmm, there's Marguerite but she's...she's not important. I don't...I don't love her. She's merely a distraction." He pinched his arm to stop his mouth from uttering words that would compromise him. He didn't care if she knew about the women; everybody knew Aramis slept with plenty of women. What mattered to him was that Elise knew there was no one important in his life right now. He was starting to understand what Porthos had warned him about the week before. Captain Tréville would kill him if he didn't make the situation right.

"So women are only 'distractions' to you? I doubt I know one who would be happy with this sort of qualification." Elise put her hands on her hips, a look of disapproval on her face.

"They only begin to interest me when they are brave enough to slap me."

"You did not feel anything!"

"You should have hit harder, indeed."

"Would you like me to give it a second try?" Elise heard the words before realizing she should not have said them. What was she thinking? It was bad enough that she had come alone to a soldier's room, but now she dared make this kind of suggestions? What would have her mother said? She blushed but did not look down.

"I'd rather not. You would simply manage to break your wrist." Aramis stepped forward, grabbing both her hands to restrain her. She put up quite a fight in an attempt to break free, but she was laughing more than she was frightened. Aramis found some comfort in the crystalline sound of her laughter. Locks of her hair framed her eyes.

Then, Elise tripped on the bed cover hanging over the edge and fell on the bed, taking the stronger man with her. Aramis landed half on top of her and only then did they realize the dangerous game they had been playing.

"It's all right. I've got you," he whispered.

"So you have." Her breathing was laboured and there was a hint of hesitation in her eyes. Everything that had happened between them since this morning was so unlike her that she could not imagine making things worse. It would be a lie to say that she had not imagined this moment, although she would have never thought she'd be the one initiating it. Today had brought her good news, and she did not want the day to end.

They stared into each other's eyes for an eternity. Aramis knew he could not do anything or his friends and his superior would kill him and accuse him of taking advantage of a defenceless girl. He was about to stand up when Elise took matters in her own hands. Carefully, and not exactly knowing what she was doing, she raised her head and pressed her lips to his.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter XII

After the first seconds of surprise, Aramis could not help but kiss her back. He rested his weight on his right arm to keep from crushing her. Her lips were soft and warm, and her mouth still tasted like alcohol. Elise's hand, now free from his grip, touched his arm timidly. She had no experience and did not know what she was supposed to do. She lost herself to the kiss, enjoying the way her body warmed up at his touch. It was the first time she'd left like that. She did not want it to end.

"You're playing a dangerous game," Aramis eventually warned her when they broke apart to breathe. Opening his eyes, he remarked her sparkling gaze and the white teeth smiling from under the swollen lips. He cast away a wavy lock of hair that had fallen on her face.

"Who said it was a game? I'm not playing any game."

"Why did you do this?"

"Because I wanted to. Do I really need another reason?"

"I do not want you to be hurt, Elise. And I think the person you like is not who I really am."

"How can you know what I think? Are you in my head?" She propped herself on her elbows to be at his level. Aramis tried to decipher what was going on on her face; too many emotions at the same time. He could not be sure of anything, and he certainly did not want to make a mistake. He doubted that the Captain would be understanding on that matter.

"Of course not but..."

"I know that I feel better when I am around you, when we talk. Besides, I have seen much more than you believe. I know you are a great and devoted soldier, be it to your country, to your friends or to strangers. I know you will do your duty no matter the risks, even if your own life is threatened. I know you are loyal, and caring, and compassionate, and funny, and gallant, and gentle. You are a great doctor, you are devoted to God. Do I need more reasons?"

Aramis was looking at her with bewilderment. She sounded so honest. He had to smile.

"This is one of the best descriptions someone has ever made of me. I'm flattered."

"I'm only speaking the truth." Aramis touched the tip of her nose with his finger before lying down next to her, sighing.

"You will be the death of me, Elise. I've been trying to elude you specifically for this reason. It was not because I did not want your company anymore. It was because you were growing too fond of me, and I couldn't have that. You don't want this life."

"I've been liking it. It goes without saying that I would prefer to be in Orléans with my parents, but since this life has been stolen from me...I have found happiness here, where I least expected it."

"One month isn't a lifetime, Elise. And there have been no important missions. Believe me, no woman likes waiting anxiously to know if the soldiers will come back alive. Your uncle will not want to you have this insecure life."

This time, she was the one sighing. She sounded frustrated.

"Must we really talk about my uncle? He isn't here yet. I am. Or do you want me to leave?"

"No!" He grabbed her arm as she made to stand up from the bed. "I'm happy you're here as well. I really am. It brings me so much solace, you have no idea. I'm only concerned with the consequences." His friend would have been proud of him for thinking this way as it had not been his first priority in the past. Recent mistakes had led him to painfully rethink his way of action. At the same time, he could not let a young girl like Elise ruin her reputation. Not after everything she had been through.

Elise only heard the first part of his answer. It reassured her that he enjoyed her presence tonight, at least she had not made a fool of herself. Her mind flowed with warm feelings and she reached once again for his mouth. Aramis had little self-control, especially knowing how tired he was. They would worry about the consequences later. He lost himself to the kiss, his touch rougher than he would have liked.

Her arms tentatively sneaked around his neck. His hand caressed the soft skin of her shoulder, moving more carefully when he grazed her long wound. Her body twitched under his.

"What is it?" he asked against her mouth. "What?" She had mumbled something he could not understand.

"It itches so much it tickles." Aramis smiled, and he felt a smile form on her lips as well. His mouth left hers to kiss her cheek, the side of her neck, then her injured flesh. Elise shuddered. No matter how much she enjoyed this, she could not let it go too far. Even now, she remembered her mother's lessons on how to be a lady.

"Stop," she said reluctantly. "I love kissing you, but I... can't do anything else," she added so quickly that Aramis barely understood her. Had she just lost him by rejecting him? She could not bare to look at him so she closed her eyes, feeling the blush radiating from her face.

"Of course, just kissing. For now." He could understand her struggle. She was so young, and so innocent. Her mother may have taught her some things, yet, she clearly knew next to nothing about relations between a man and a woman. Nevertheless, she had enough common sense to not lose herself to the first one to come.

"Aramis? Would you mind if I slept here tonight?" He raised a questioning eyebrow at the suggestion.

"Believe me, I would like nothing more. Is it what a lady should do, though?" He saw her blush even more.

"I just want to sleep. You should not be alone and I'm so happy this evening I want to share it with you."

"You've already made me feel better, Elise. I'll greatly appreciate the company, especially as lovely as yours. You're welcome to stay. I'll sleep on the floor."

They spent most of the night talking. Elise felt so at ease with the Musketeers that she told him many of her secrets, sharing precious moments from her childhood. Aramis had always enjoyed listening to her, and tonight was no exception. She looked so lively, the shadow of the terrible attack a distant memory. He could almost forget about his son, being deeply interested in the most simple details of her life.

Then, it was his turn to tell her about he joined the Musketeers. He shared some of his most chivalrous moments, making her laugh with his adventures with Porthos and Athos. Too many secrets had to be left unsaid, but he could not believe how easy it was to speak with this girl. It was effortless. The words ran between them, crushing invisible barriers.

Aramis ended up being the first to fall asleep, his head on her shoulder. Elise kept on brushing his hair for a long time before she realized the soothing gesture had had the expected effect. He finally looked peaceful. There was no worry or concern on his face. She was quite proud to think that she was partly responsible for it. As far as she was concerned, she was not tired. Too much had happened in this room, and she could not manage to stop the whirlpool in her head.

There was a silly smile on her face. A small voice was whispering that she was not doing something good, that she should leave, and that she should not have come in the first place. When she looked at the sleeping Musketeer, all of these warnings seemed unjustified. How could he hurt her? She put her arm around his chest and closed her eyes, engraving the moment in her memory.

* * *

She must have dozed off, because when she opened her eyes again, there was a small ray of sunshine on her face. Elise squinted, struggling to get her bearings until she remembered where she was. There was still a strong Musketeers sleeping soundly by her side. She rejoiced in the warmth of his body. She was as hot as she could be on a summer day. Sleeping in the same bed as someone else was not something she was used to, and she had not disliked it.

Aramis's face was serene in his slumber. If she had managed to make him forget his troubles for a few hours, it was already a victory. She did not want to wake him up yet. Instead, her eyes landed on the two necklaces he always carried, resting close to her hand. Curiosity caught the best of her, and she gently grabbed them, turning the golden cross between her fingers. It was a true work of art. She wondered who had given it to him. It was an incredibly elegant piece of jewellery. It must have been made for a woman. At the thought, Elise felt jealous. She had never been jealous because of a man. Aramis had quite a busy life, she could not forget it. What was going to happen to her? Would he discard her when he lost interest?

She dismissed the unhappy thought, focusing on the second necklace within her reach. It was slightly bigger, but it still looked like it belonged on a woman. There was a small lock to open it. Elise held her breath, hoping the noise would not wake him up. What she found inside greatly intrigued her. There was a lock of dark hair, and a miniature of a small child. A child who looked a lot like Aramis. Her eyes went from the sleeping face to the miniature, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

There was only one possible answer: Aramis indeed had an enormous secret he did not want to share with her. She did not know how she felt about it, and she did not wish to be here when he'd wake up any more. Her discovery had washed away the joy and contentment she felt. Without making a sound, she stood up from the bed, and left the room.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I borrowed one line from the BBC. Everything else is the product of my imagination.

* * *

Chapter XIII

When he woke up some hours later, Aramis felt incredibly well-rested. The sun was finally back and it warmed his face. Opening his eyes, he realized it must already be late morning. It was a wonder he had been allowed to sleep for so long. Athos truly was a good friend. No matter how much he could disapprove of his friend's actions, he would do anything to help. The Musketeer had to go and seek news from the Palace. There was always hope of some progress during the night.

Then, he remembered that he had not spent the night alone. It made him smile. He had enjoyed his long talk with Elise. It was so easy to speak with her, almost natural. But there was no one else in the room with him. The blanket next to him was cold. If Elise had woken up before him, she had left long ago. There was no blaming her for it. He would simply have to find her to discuss their situation.

Aramis was deeply conflicted. On the one hand, she was a great ray of sunshine in his complicated life. He thought he could never feel this way after losing Adele and Isabelle, and coming to terms with the hopeless idea of having a relation with the Queen. He may have been wrong. But on the other hand, Elise was so young, the Captain would see red when he'd know she had been involved with a Musketeer. Besides, it was too dangerous for her to be with him. Who knew when his secret could be exposed and his life in danger? Whatever he decided, hearts would be broken, and Aramis was not ready to take such a decision yet.

"Would you look at that! Someone got a special treatment!" Porthos complained, riding through the Garrison's gates, Athos at his side. Aramis was walking down the stairs towards them. "d'Artagnan had to take your watch at the Palace because you would not wake up."

That was the reason why he had been let to rest. Aramis stared at Athos who did not acknowledge him, dismounting and taking care of his horse instead.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I'll make it up to him."

"He hopes so. You should have seen him: he was _delighted_ to trade a mission into town for the nursery."

Porthos then left to find some food, leaving his two friends alone. Aramis felt like a little boy, waiting to be scolded. Athos took one good look at him, judging him. He must have been satisfied with his evaluation because he slapped the other's shoulder in a friendly way.

"Any news?" Aramis could not help asking. Athos did not turn around.

"Not yet. You'll have to ask d'Artagnan when he comes back. And you better find a way to thank him."

"You did not even tell me I was supposed to be on duty this morning."

"Of course not. Do you really think I would let you anywhere close the Palace knowing your turmoil? You'd end up making a fool of yourself, putting all of us in jeopardy."

"You made the right decision. I'll offer to take some of d'Artagnan's duties in the future." The other Musketeer nodded in agreement and they both went their separate ways.

In his heart, Aramis did not like how his problems were impacting his friendship. There was so much he had to hide when he was used to sharing so much with the others. It was to protect them yet it did not make it easier. If he had not fallen for the Queen, there would be no baby to worry about, and his mind would be free to joke and feast with Porthos instead of thinking of his son's illness. Well, his mind would at least be free to focus solely on Elise.

* * *

Elise was in her uncle's office, analysing her mother's jewels. There were so many left. She tried on the rings, choosing which ones went better with her dress. After, she tried on the necklaces. There were some hair clips as well. She needed some sort of mirror to put them on, but failing to find one, she went to the window, trying to find her reflection. She saw the two Musketeers coming back into the courtyard and talking with Aramis before disappearing in the stables.

There were so many thoughts running in her head that she could not put them in order. Aramis and a baby? A baby so young? Or was the miniature already old? Why had no one ever talked about this child? Why did he never talk about it? Where was he? More importantly, where was the mother? Who was she? Was she still part of the Musketeer's life? Was she this Marguerite Porthos had talked about?

In the chapel, she had not understood if the person he was praying for, this Louis, was a member of his family or not. His answer: "Yes, no, it's complicated" was very obscure. How could someone be and not be a member of his family? Did Aramis have an affair with a married woman and fathered a child he could not claim as his? Elise did not know how she would react if such was the case. It was one thing to know that he was a lady man and he had many admirers. She had the secret and foolish hope she may be able to change this. But if he had no scruples and even bedded married women, what would she do? How could he look at himself?

Was it this impossible child that was putting her dear soldier in such a bad shape? Was he the one being very, very sick? She could understand why he was worried. When a child was sick, it was always a miracle when he recovered. Some part of her hoped that if it was the case, the baby would soon be healthy again.

So deep in her thoughts, Elise did not see Athos and Aramis re-enter the courtyard. She did not realize he saw her at the window and climbed up the stairs to come to her. Then, there was a soft knock on the door and he was in the room before she could find an excuse.

"Good morning," he greeted her, a rather large smile on his face. Elise was secretly happy to know it was because of her, but she could let it cloud her judgement. She was in need of important answers before she could let his charms affect her. "You were gone when I woke up. I hope you slept well."

"Very well, thank you. You needed to rest; I did not wish to wake you up."

"I could get used to going to sleep and waking up with you by my side," he said, walking to her. He went to kiss her, but she moved her head and his lips landed on her cheek. They stared into each other's eyes for a long time, but when they both realized a silent conversation would lead to nothing, they simultaneously decided:

"We need to talk." Aramis laughed.

"By all means, ladies first," he offered.

"There are things I do not understand about you. It does not really matter if they are related to the Musketeers or to your past as a soldier. But I do think I am entitled to some answers. You must promise me that you will answer my questions."

"As long as my answers keep you safe, you have my word." Elise was not completely satisfied with his reply.

"I know you're going to think that I'm too curious but...when I woke up this morning, you were sleeping and... your necklaces were right under my nose and..." His heart sank.

"You opened it," he finished her sentence and she nodded. The way his eyes darkened was the answer she needed. Her own heart grew a little cold.

"Do you have a child, Aramis?"

"No..." he first said. How he was going to protect her from his secret now, he had no idea. He could lie, say it was somebody's else baby. She would probably ask whose, though. Sometimes, it was better to give some pieces of the truth. "...Yes."

"Be clearer. Either you have a child or you don't. It's simple."

"Not in that case. Yes, he is my child, yet at the same time, nobody can never know he is. So, no."

"I was correct, then. I was aware you had a great reputation amongst women but I naively imagined you stayed away from the married ones."

"It's a little bit more complicated than you think, Elise. You don't know what happened."

"And I don't want you to tell me! I cannot believe you would do such a thing! I thought I knew you but you must have been right: I may not."

"You cannot judge my actions so harshly." Aramis was trying to remain calm. She was young and her ideas of what marriage entailed solely came from what her mother had taught her. He understood long ago that life was not as easy and smooth as he thought when he was a child. "There are times in life when your world comes crashing down, when you don't even know if you will survive the day and it leads to act without thinking. She had not planned it, I had not. And we knew it could never happen again afterwards. It hasn't," he added, looking right into her eyes. She had to understand that much. "There was just this unexpected consequence." He touched his neck, reaching for the locket.

"But she's married..."

"And she is unhappy in her marriage. Duty is what matters the most to her, and I know the baby is safe with her. He will have a far better life than if he was with me. What would I do with a baby in the barracks?"

Elise was still not completely comforted by his explanations. She had a hard time wrapping her head around his actions. She was not sure she could forgive it, however, was it her role to do so? Aramis was older than she was, he had lived more adventures than she could ever dream about. He was bound to carry more burdens. This one was quite unexpected, though.

"Do your friends know?"

"Only Athos. It is safer for the others to stay out."

"I cannot believe I am saying this, but you are certainly not the only one in Paris who has sired a child out of wedlock. You are a Musketeer, so are your friends. I am sure you could defend yourself against a furious husband."

"Not this one, no." Aramis shook his head.

"I can hardly think of anyone who could outdo you. You are the finest sword man I know, so unless you've slept with the Queen, which is quite impossible, admit it, I do not fear for you." She laughed at her own silly idea. She was starting to understand his problems better, and it did him great credit to wish to protect his closest friends.

Aramis tried to disguise his shock when he heard her words. He knew she could not have meant it as a trap; there was no way she had figured out that much. But hearing his most feared secret being voiced out loud was like being hit in the stomach. He was breathless, the colour drained from his face. Elise could not help but notice. She opened her mouth a few times, no sound coming out.

"You...did...not."

If he lied now, she would be smart enough to know it. He had doomed her as well. Athos was going to kill him.

"But she's the _Queen_!" Elise gasped, taking a step back when Aramis reached for her hand. "You have a child...You were praying for a friend yesterday...he is sick and..."

"Elise, please..."

"His name is...Dear God..." As understanding crashed on her, Elise felt like fainting. It simply could not be possible. He would not have done such a thing. He was not that stupid. "He's the _heir_ to the_ throne_."

"Which is why no one can ever know. Do you understand why I warned you it was extremely dangerous? I wish you had not been so curious. I'm sorry, I truly am."

Not at all recovered from the shock, she did the only thing she could think of: she slapped him so hard his hat fell to the floor. It quite hurt this time. Aramis deserved it. What happened next was rather unexpected. Elise clung to his neck, her lips kissing his desperately. He caught her in his arm, responding furiously to the pressure. There was so much tension in the room that their kisses were everything but gentle.

"They'll kill you. Why would you do this? They'll kill you!" Elise cried, angry tears running down her cheeks. Aramis brushed the first ones off but there were too many. "They can't kill you, they can't!"

"Ssssssh...calm down. They will not kill anyone because they will never learn about it. Do you hear me? They will _not_ hear about this story."

Elise nodded, sobs preventing her from saying another word. Her hands were touching every part of his uniform within her reach. It was impossible for her to imagine her world without Aramis in it now, and the mere thought of him being imprisoned and judged as a traitor broke her heart. She could not accept what he had done, nevertheless he had done it, nothing she could say or do would change this fact. She was sure of one thing, she wanted to spend as much time as she could with him.

Aramis gently took her chin in his hand so she would look up. He looked tortured. All his attempts to protect her had failed. He had failed her. It was unfair to put such a weight on her weak shoulders.

"You carry my life in your hands, Elise."

"I'll never betray you. You mean too much to me."

"Too much indeed," he sighed, and she managed to smile a little.

"You are such a fool. A gallant fool, but a fool anyway."

"It's probably the best description you'll ever make of me." He kissed her softly, taking his time. Where her shyness had gone, he had no idea. Her mouth opened willingly for him. Their kiss seemed to last forever.

"What did you want to talk about?" Elise eventually asked, remembering that he, too, had meant to tell her something before she confronted him. All their problems were not resolved, far from it, yet for now, nothing mattered but to spend time together. He would find time later.

"Given what just happened, trust me, it is now irrelevant. You already have much to worry about. We should go get some fresh air. What do you say?"

Elise agreed willingly and they left together, more united than ever.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter XIV

In the middle of the afternoon, d'Artagnan was back from the Palace. He was still brooding over the fact that he could have paid a visit to Constance since her husband was out of town if his fellow Musketeer had not overslept. He could not find any of them at the Garrison though. After a rapid inquiry, he hunted them down at the closest tavern. Porthos was as always engrossed in a heated game of cards. Athos and Aramis were sharing a bottle of wine.

"Your price is mine," his friend offered as soon as the youngest sat down at the table.

"My drinks for the night, to start with."

"Your wish is my command." Aramis raised his hand so the innkeeper would bring a glass for d'Artagnan.

"Today was not so terrible, actually. Mind you, I would have been better with Constance, but there was more activity than usual. It was definitely more interesting to watch. I was growing sick of nurses and governesses tiptoeing around as if someone had died."

Aramis barely raised his head at this piece of information. It was better to focus on filling his glass. Hiding behind the brink of his hat, he was not losing one word. He may have already drunk a lot to try to forget the precarious situation he had put Elise in, he would always be alert enough when it came to the Dauphin.

"Is that so?" Athos asked.

"There were new physicians the King had sent for. The first one wanted to leech the Dauphin. I did not think a woman like the Queen could shout so loud. You should have been there," he laughed, thinking back on what he had witnessed. "I believe even the King was a little bit afraid of her wrath. In the end, they sent this one away. The second one suggested to use steam, which sounded a lot less harmful. He said it could clear his brain. I cannot be sure, but there seemed to be some improvement when I left. Your Marguerite looked less concerned than usual," he added for Aramis's sake.

The latter exhaled the breath he had been holding. If his friend was correct, the baby was going to be safe. It was such a relief. He had somewhat forgotten about Marguerite, though. Aramis swallowed another glass of wine.

"Very good. Everything is finally settling down. The royals are all out of danger and the Captain will soon be back."

"All the more to celebrate!" Porthos exclaimed, joining his friends, his hand full of his newly-won money. The coins bounced on the table. "I wonder what will happen to Elise's brother. What this boy had done...what his sister has been through because of him. If he were my brother, I would punch him until my fists hurt."

"Somehow, I cannot imagine our Elise having enough strength to hurt anyone."

Aramis chuckled in spite of himself, his jaw clearly remembering the blow it had suffered the very morning. His friends all looked at him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking."

"Well then, you are not drinking enough if you are still capable of coherent thoughts. More wine!" Porthos screamed over the hubbub.

* * *

The day after, Elise was helping the cook in the kitchen. She liked to make herself useful, and she enjoyed spending time with the old man. He was nice and caring, the Musketeers were almost like his own children. It made her smile how he often rebuked them when they complained that the food was not to their liking. The loaves of bread were in the oven, and the room was filling with a delicious smell.

She had not slept very well after the big revelations of the day before so she was drowsing on her chair. Her mind could not rest knowing the situation in which Aramis was. It was difficult for her not to judge him especially since his actions went against most of what she believed in. The growing affection she felt for him overtook most of her criticism. She had no idea where everything would lead her, but the Musketeer had reassured her when she was at the lowest; she felt bound to him in a good way.

There was a commotion in the common room, bringing Elise back to the present. She followed the cook out of the door to see what it was all about. There never was a dull day at the Garrison. The four Musketeers had made quite an entrance: one was limping towards the nearest seat, another had his face so bruised you barely discerned his eyes anymore. Athos looked dishevelled, his uniform in a pitiful state and the last one was holding a bloodied piece of cloth to his head. The old man shook his head, obviously used to such a sight.

"These four are the best and the worst calamity that has ever happened to this company."

"Water...," d'Artagnan groaned, sitting down and resting his bloody head on the table. The cook grumbled something, but fetched them some.

"What happened to you?" Elise asked, looking at them with a mixture of disbelief and disgust. They looked like they had not slept at all, or if they did, it had not been in their bed. She discarded the rag d'Artagnan pressed to his hair. He was not bleeding anymore. "Stop groaning. You will live." He mumbled something in response, reaching painfully for something to quench his thirst.

There was no Musketeer glory irradiating from them this morning. If she wanted to be completely honest, Elise would have said that they looked like a pathetic lot.

"Is someone at least able to explain?" she demanded again, her hands on her hips. Porthos took off the boot on his weakened leg to rest it on the bench. It made him laugh when he saw her frustration. His entire body ached. There may very well be something wrong with his ribs as well.

"Ouch...If I recall correctly, somebody disrespected someone else and then...well...I cannot really say what happened afterwards, but it sure wasn't pretty."

"You should see the other party. If you think this is bad, they are definitely worse," Aramis managed to say while rubbing his forehead. It hurt inside and on his face. His knuckles were covered in dry blood. He was not certain it was his. They cracked when he folded them.

"That is correct. Nobody can beat us. We're the best." They sounded so proud of their actions, it infuriated her even more. They actually behaved like children sometimes. It was difficult to imagine the King's best soldiers acting so recklessly.

"This _is_ bad. Look at yourself! How do you expect to perform your duty with such a battered face?" Elise grabbed Aramis's chin and turned his face towards hers to examine his injuries. There was a cut on one of his cheeks, one of his eyes was completely shut and so swollen that it had doubled in size. The other eyelid was slowly turning blue and his right eye was injected with blood. His top lip was split, a few drops of blood covering it. Her touch was a little rough and he broke free to swallow some water.

"This is why we have hats. To hide the damage." Elise backed away, disgusted. He had spoken too close to her and his breath was foul.

"You reek!" d'Artagnan still had enough strength to laugh, which he quickly regretted. Every vibration hurt. Athos, who had been nursing his wounds in silence, looked at her curiously. She had been spending too much time with them; her language was slowly deteriorating. "Have you been drinking all night?"

"Probably. There was cause to celebrate, though. Everybody's safe and your uncle is bringing your brother back."

"Everybody's safe? I hope you are not talking about yourselves! And you! How could you let this happen?" she confronted Athos. She looked so furious at the moment that he could almost fear her.

"I'm not their father. If they want to drink and have a little fun, I will not stop them. They deserve it."

"Fun? You call this having fun? Musketeers!" Her words had no impact on them. They were not used to answering to a woman when it came to explaining why they had fought. Aramis found some strength to smile at her. She cared for them all.

"Go wash up, all of you. I will not try to look at your injuries unless you look a little more decent," she ordered, resolute.

"Have we got a new physician? Wonderful! At least it will be better than having you look at my naked flesh," Porthos grinned and Aramis deliberately shook the bench he was lying on. His friend moaned in pain.

"Hurry up. Go wash up," Elise repeated, so close to d'Artagnan's ear, it made him hurt even more. He nodded, but did not move. "Do not make me come back to fetch you," she threatened.

"Yes, Mother. Right away, Mother," Aramis joked and she slapped him on the back of his head before stamping out of the room. It hurt and when he tried to rub the pain away, he discovered a new source of pain in his arm.

"Would you look at that! What has gotten into her?"

"I fear her stay with us has greatly improved her confidence."

"I have to say, I'll miss her when she will move out. It was nice to have her around."

"As far as I'm concerned, she is starting to scare me a little. She must be spending too much time with Constance; she is starting to treat us like she does. I personally do not wish for her to come back in here." d'Artagnan slowly stood up, swinging dangerously. He felt dizzy. "On second thoughts..." He sat back down and passed out in a few seconds.

* * *

Elise was sitting outside in the courtyard, reading and enjoying the warmth of the sun. The weather was improving. Athos was the first one to join her. Of all the four Musketeers, he seemed to be the least injured. Apart from his uniform which was a little out of place, he did not seem to have taken any blows. Either he was a better fighter or he was smarter than the others. He stood against the table, his arms crossed.

"You have scared them a little, Mademoiselle, which is not something easily achieved. But they've all passed out down there."

"And you haven't?"

"I can hold my liquor better. Besides, I have things to do. I am still in charge around here. Captain Tréville will be glad to hear that his niece could make a good commanding officer, though." Elise smiled at the compliment.

"I wish I could stay here when my uncle will return. Unfortunately, I do not think his position will be the same."

"You will not need our protection anymore when your family will be back. It would not do for you to stay with soldiers. But do not be worried, I am certain the Captain will care for you as best as he can."

"How? I cannot imagine many possibilities in my future. I refuse to spend my life in a convent. I find the mere thought of being locked away dreadful."

"You are young and in good health, Elise. The Captain will not send you away against your will. You are his sister's daughter. He will listen to you."

"I hope," she sighed.

"Instead of fretting about your future, you should focus on welcoming your brother. He will surely need all your affection. You have both greatly suffered lately." Elise nodded. "He will be happy if a room has been prepared for him. Why don't you see to it?" She was glad for the mission. It occupied the remainder of her morning to make preparations for her brother's arrival.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter XV

Porthos's injuries were not too bad after all. He simply needed to rest, which he happily did. Elise sacrificed some alcohol to clean the wound on d'Artagnan's head. He cringed, but knew better than to complain. The only one in a rather bad shape was Aramis, even though he seemed perfectly content to have the young girl tend to his bruised face. He had the clever idea to take off his uniform and wash away most of the blood before presenting himself to the room they used as an infirmary.

Elise could not help but be a little rough with him. She was upset.

"Do you do this often? Starting fights and coming back looking like a wreck?"

"To be completely fair, I was not the one who started it. Porthos did."

"It does not matter. Have you seen your face?"

"It's been worse. Trust me, Elise. This is routine for me."

"But not for me, Aramis. How am I supposed to feel about this? Am I supposed to turn a blind eye when you come back drunk and beaten? What is so funny?" He was grinning and among all the bruises, it made him look a little out of his mind.

"You." He grabbed her arm and sat her down on his lap. "I've hardly ever had anyone caring so much for me. It's a nice change." She continued to dab the wet cloth to his face, but she had to smile. It was difficult to stay mad at him for long.

"Everyone's safe, then?"

"Yes, according to d'Artagnan. The Dauphin seems out of danger."

"You're relieved."

"I am."

"I did tell you that God would listen to your prayers. He could not possibly punish a child for his parents' mistake." Aramis put an arm around her waist, bringing her closer to his chest. She kissed his lips, which made him wince.

"Don't stop. It's a good kind of pain this time," he said against her mouth. "Do you resent me?" he asked after a while.

"What for?"

"For being involved with the Queen?"

"Honestly, yes, a little. However, what is done, is done. I believe it will be a burden heavy enough to carry for the rest of your life without having more people blaming you for it. It will take some time but I will come to terms with it."

"Some time? So you intend to spend more time with me?" He smiled cheekily. It made his cheeks ache. She was a clever girl to have arrived to this conclusion, and he thanked the Heavens he had found her.

"If you'll have me."

"Oh, I am not the problem. Trust me. I have taken a great liking in you. It is your uncle I am..." She put a finger on his lips to silence him.

"I do not wish to hear about him right now. I know what I want, and it's not to talk about him." To prove her point, she twined her arms around his neck, kissing him again. It was the best medicine he needed.

* * *

Two days later, Aramis was pacing nervously in the Palace's corridors. They had been summoned by the King about another of his secret missions. Athos must have made a great impression because these orders had been quite scarce after Captain Tréville left. The monarch was beginning to trust the Musketeer. Too bad he would soon have to give up his command to his rightful superior.

The Queen had not been at the audience. He knew it was dangerous to wander by himself in search of his son, but he was close and his heart was aching to be closer to him.

"What is wrong with you?" Porthos hissed. His friend was giving him a headache by constantly moving in circles.

"I am famished," Aramis lied.

"Then go to the kitchen or I swear I will punch what is left of your face."

"A tempting offer but no. I do not want Elise to yell at me again for getting into trouble. I won't be long."

Satisfied with his excuse, he left the others. When he was sure he was out of sight, he climbed the stairs to the muffled corridor leading to the nursery. He met two guards on the way, as well as two of his fellow Musketeers. He relieved the one closest to his son's room, claiming Athos had sent him to take over the watch. Pierre was too happy to comply, he did not even question the decision.

The door was slightly ajar, and there was a voice he recognized inside. He entered quietly. Marguerite was rocking the Dauphin in his crib, humming softly. She smiled when she heard his footsteps and turned around.

"It's been a long time. I have missed you."

"I did not think it was opportune to come when the Queen and the King were in such distress for the heir." Aramis stole a glance at the baby. He did not look as healthy as he used to but he did not seem to be in pain anymore. He was smiling at his governess.

"What happened to you?"

"Some complications during a mission. Nothing to worry about."

She made to touch his face and he took a step back. He was aware he had to talk to her. It was unfair to give her hope for their relationship when he was starting to become too deeply committed with Elise. It was a conversation he wish could be easy.

Taking off his hat, he explained that it was not good for her to continue seeing him. They knew perfectly well that her father intended to marry her to some Count or Duke very soon, and it was better if they stopped seeing each other. Marguerite was a nice woman after all, and he could not forgive himself if her reputation was ruined because of him. It was time he started worrying about the consequences his actions had on the ladies involved with him.

Marguerite put up quite a fight, all in hushed tones. It would not do to have a heated argument so close to the Queen's apartments. The Musketeer knew how to use his many talents and charms to convince her and she eventually accepted his decision. She was reluctant to do so, though so she sent him away to his position. She no longer wanted to talk or see him. Aramis then had to spend the next hours stuck in the corridor. He took it as a penitence for his past actions.

However, he was rather relieved when he heard Athos and the others coming in his direction.

"There you are! Did you mistake the nursery for the kitchen?"

"I had to see Marguerite, but she...hmmmmm...she was not happy with what I had to say so I am stuck here."

"It serves you well," Athos stated. "You will stay here until the next Musketeer comes to take over."

Porthos and d'Artagnan made fun of their friend until they were threatened to keep him company for the rest of the watch. It dampened their spirits at once.

* * *

It was late afternoon when Aramis left the Palace. Although the day had been quite boring, he felt satisfied to have made things clear with Marguerite. He was not worried about her; she would soon have a very good situation. On the other hand, it was torture to be so close to the Dauphin and not being able to see him, but hearing his babbling once in a while had been enough.

The familiar noises that greeted him when he reached the Garrison were a comfort. It felt like there was still hope for his life to be right somehow. He may be able to balance his dangerous love for his son with the Queen's help, and if he could keep Elise as well, it would be perfect. Unfortunately, the latter part could prove rather difficult to achieve.

"You survived!" Porthos exclaimed, sheathing his sword. "Being on baby watch is such a boredom. The only thing keeping me sane if knowing that soon he will walk and we will not always be stuck in this dull corridor." Aramis rejoiced at the thought, too. His son was growing so fast.

"Where are the others?"

"They were sent to retrieve some documents in the city. They should be back soon."

"Should we wait for them?" Porthos rolled his eyes, clearly dismissing the idea.

"They will know where to find us."

They were about to make their way out of the gates when they noticed the small troop of riders coming down the street. The two Musketeers jumped to the side to avoid being trampled. The Captain was finally back, followed by their comrades he had taken with him. Athos and d'Artagnan must have met them on the road because they were close behind.

The riders scattered in the courtyard, Musketeers quickly coming to greet their companions and their officer. There was a young man nobody knew with them; Aramis understood it was Christophe, the one who had put his family in such a terrible turmoil. He looked so thin and almost sick that it was difficult to feel anything but pity for him. His long hair was hiding his face as he dismounted, looking around.

"It's good to have you back, Captain," Porthos said, holding the reins of Tréville's horse.

"It's good to be back, indeed. I see you have not wrecked havoc while I was away. Good job, Athos." The Musketeer bowed his head to acknowledge the compliment. "Christophe, come here," he ordered the young man who joined them. He avoided his uncle's stare, observing the four Musketeers instead. "This is my infamous nephew. He will be staying at the Garrison until further notice. Who knows what trouble he could get himself into if he's left alone."

The boy threw a dark look at the Captain. He must not have been consulted for this decision. Porthos cracked his knuckles. No matter who Christophe was, he could not show disrespect for the Captain without facing the consequences.

"I will be happy to keep an eye on him."

"I don't need _you_ to guard me," the boy sneered. Athos stopped Porthos before he made a mistake.

"Porthos, no..."

"He will learn his lesson. All in due time, Porthos," the Captain promised. It was taking a lot of self-control to handle his nephew, and he was glad to be back in Paris where he would not be alone to do so. He trusted his most loyal soldiers to provide the help he would need. Porthos's reaction was reassuring. Christophe was going to be a piece of work. "You will respect these Musketeers, boy. Porthos and Aramis were the ones who rescued Elise. You should be thanking them, not insulting them."

Understanding that he would not be left in peace, the boy reluctantly said "thank you." Porthos was still seething.

"Uncle?" Elise had been drawn outside by all the agitation. She appeared at the top of the stairs, taking in the scene in front of her. When she spotted her brother, she forgot how to behave like a lady and came hurtling down the stairs. She pushed past Aramis who was on her way and hugged her brother with all her strength. She seemed to be the only person he did not resent because he hugged her back.

"How are you? How do you feel? What happened to you? Are you sick? Do you need anything? Oh, I'm so glad you are alive!" She checked his body from head to toe, looking for any sign of trauma and was somewhat reassured when she found none.

"I am fine, Elise. You look well."

"I've had the best carers you could ask for. You'll see, these Musketeers are adorable."

"Obviously...," her brother half-heartedly agreed, staring at Porthos and d'Artagnan close behind her. He doubted that they would treat him as they had treated her.

"Uncle, it's so good to see you, too." She hugged him briefly. The smile on her face expressed all her happiness and her relief. It was a comfort for Captain Tréville to see that his niece looked healthy. Her face was as smooth as before the attack, and she moved her shoulder without difficulty. "You must be starving. Shall we go to the kitchen?"

"Some food sounds appealing, yes, but we will take it to my office. There is still much to talk about. Christophe, with me."

The Captain did not wait to see if his order was followed and went up the stairs while Elise hurried to the kitchen to find sustenance. Her brother slowly dragged his feet until Athos lost patience and grabbed his collar, hurrying him along.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter XVI

Christophe tried to break free from Athos's grip, but the Musketeer was far stronger than he was. They were almost at Tréville's door when they all cornered the boy leaving him no chance to escape.

"I don't know who you think you are, but here, you are nothing. You hear, nothing?" Porthos said between his teeth. Even when he did not get to use his fists, he could be quite frightening. "It does not matter that you are the Capt ain's nephew. You will get fair treatment for your actions and you better start showing some respect or I will teach it to you the hard way. You will not be the one giving orders here. We will. Now, get in there."

He slammed the door open, pushing the boy inside. D'Artagnan guarded the front door. Trévill sat his nephew down on a stool, the others looming above him.

"I have to say the magistrates in Orléans were a great help. We caught the ones responsible for the attack and they have faced trial for their actions. You had already killed the bandits who had...murdered the boy's parents so the rest could not be convicted for this crime. They will still spend the rest of their life in prison."

"Elise will be glad to hear it. She was quite worried they would manage to escape."

"She looks much better than when I left. I am starting to think you are a better surgeon than you are a sword man, Aramis."

"Never, Captain. I just happen to have been more gifted than others."

"Are you talking about me?" Porthos challenged.

"Not now, gentlemen. It is not the time." The two Musketeers fell silent. Christophe glared at them. "This young man is in a lot of trouble. He should not even be here with us. He had gambled a lot with a lot of people, not all quite recommendable. He owes some money too many of them. There was a prison cell with his name on it. He's lucky he's my nephew or he would be rotting over there right now."

"I did not need your help. I would have had no problem making my escape if you had not found me."

"We found him hiding in the forest, barefoot and starving. He had not eaten anything for days. Oh yes, I am sure he would have survived without us," the Captain said with sarcasm, ignoring his nephew.

"I would have! Why does nobody trust me when I say so?"

"Because your actions got your parents killed! Don't you understand? _You_ killed your parents!" Tréville shouted, finally losing his temper and his patience. Christophe cringed on his seat.

"I tried to ask Father for some money, but he would not let me borrow any. Everything would be different if he had listened to me."

Tréville slapped the boy so hard with the back of his hand that the Musketeers could see the shape of the fingers on Christophe's face. He looked shocked.

"Do not find excuses. My sister is dead because of you, and only you. It is time you face the consequences of your actions. You will stay at the Garrison until you learn to behave with honour and righteousness. I will not make your life easy. They will not make your life easy," he added, pointing at the four soldiers in the room. "Nobody will be sorry for you, here. You are not king here. That time is over."

"Do you think Elise will let you treat me like a nobody?"

"Your sister saw your parents being killed. She was assaulted by a criminal and almost kidnapped. She was greatly wounded because of you!" Aramis forgot his place and strode towards the young boy, his fists balled at his sides. "She is relieved that you are alive, but she will not forgive you easily."

"Who are you to believe so? I'm her brother; I know her better than you do."

"I saved her! We saved her! We were there to take care of her when you weren't. She suffered because of you! If you truly cared about her, you would not have put her in danger in the first place." Aramis grabbed the boy by his jacket, pulling him up to his feet, the stool falling to the floor with a loud noise. For the first time since he had arrived in Paris, Christophe looked genuinely scared. The Musketeer's face was still bruised from the tavern fight, and he looked like a rogue. There was much hatred in his eyes, more than when Porthos had threatened him.

"Easy, Aramis. Let him go." Athos forced him to release the young man who retreated as far away as he could.

"What is wrong with him?"

"Be quiet," his uncle ordered. "Go get some fresh air, Aramis. Porthos, go with him."

"I would have hit him," Porthos said when they were in the corridor. His friend knew his behaviour would not be questioned. They felt the same about Christophe. Aramis rested his head on the wall, breathing angrily.

"It is hard to believe they are brother and sister. He does not seem to realize all the pain he has caused. His parents are _dead_ and he still acts as if it was nothing."

They heard footsteps coming in their direction and Aramis took a deep breath, trying to hide his anger from Elise. She was balancing a heavy trail in her arms.

"Is everything fine?" she asked. There were more shouts heard from the office and she looked at them, puzzled.

"You brother is quite a piece of work," Porthos conceded.

"He has always been a difficult child, but I am sure these trials will make him come around."

"I hope you are right, Elise. Let me help you." Porthos opened the door for her and she disappeared inside. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

Night had fallen for quite some time already and the air was growing chilly. Aramis did not feel like going back inside, though. His friends had gone into town once again more to celebrate Athos being a simple Musketeer again than the return of their Captain. He had brought some new troubles along and Aramis was not looking forward to dealing with Christophe again. He was in no mood to celebrate tonight so he had stayed behind. Leaning on the balcony, he was looking at the stars.

"They are beautiful," Elise said quietly, leaning next to him. She was clutching a heavy shawl to her shoulders and her hair was down, her curls draped on one side of her face.

"Some say if you look closely, you may see shapes and patterns."

"Is that so?"

"I have never seen anything more than glimmering lights."

"I still find them incredibly beautiful to look at."

"I can think of prettier and closer things to gaze upon," Aramis stated, looking at her. She laughed, coming closer to him and taking his hand in hers.

"Aren't you the charming man with your sweet compliments!" She played with his fingers for some time, marvelling at how big they were compared to her own. They were rough as well, but she enjoyed this feeling. She looked behind her to make sure that nobody was coming in their direction. It was too dark to see anything from afar and there was a single lantern on the balcony. They were quite safe.

"I heard you rather scared my brother. Of all the Musketeers I think you are the one he fears the most now."

"He is so full of himself and I felt it was a sign of disrespect for him to believe that his actions would be forgiven so easily."

"It bothers me to see that he does not seem to have any remorse. I hope it is simply because he is still in shock and he will soon realize what has happened. Thank you, though. For protecting me like you do."

Elise rested her head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head. Everything was peaceful after all the agitation and she rejoiced in the simple feeling of being with him.

"I was in the Palace this morning. I saw him. He looked better." She squeezed his hand.

"That's a relief."

"I saw someone else as well. Do you remember Marguerite, the girl Porthos spoke about once?" He had long hesitated to bring up the subject. If he wanted to start afresh, he had to come clean with her. She deserved that much. He felt her nod against his arm. "I spoke with her. We used to have...a thing going on, but I told her that I wanted to put an end to it. Not that I had seen her even since you kissed me. I am not like that. I could not let her think there could be more between us when all I desire is to be with you."

She looked up, searching his eyes in the darkness.

"You do?"

"Yes. But I want you to really think about it. I already told you it would be a dangerous life. Nothing tells us that my secret will be safe forever. I may have to run away one day and being a traitor is even more perilous. Think hard on it. Even without this, I will often be gone for days and you will not know what I am up to most of the time. Ask Constance why she did not leave her husband to live with d'Artagnan."

"It is different. She is already married, I am not."

"I could be injured or maimed."

"I would nurse you."

"I could very well not survive a fight."

"I would bring you back to life."

"Do not joke. I am serious, Elise."

"So am I. I have thought about it for a long time. Perhaps it is because you saved me, perhaps it is because of all the secrets you've shared with me, but I feel closer to you every day. I cannot imagine my life without you in it."

"It's been a long time since I've felt that way as well," Aramis whispered, resting his forehead against hers. Their lips touched slowly and they forgot for a moment that they were not alone at the Garrison. They would always have time to worry about the rest of the world later.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter XVII

Captain Tréville had been back for two days and he was satisfied to see the fine job Athos had done while he was away. The day he would retire from the Musketeers, he knew who he would recommend to the King as his successor. Things were running smoothly at the Garrison at the exception of his nephew who still had the nerve to complain that the tasks he had to perform were beneath him. At least Elise had sided with her uncle, hoping that some roughness would lead Christophe to understand his mistakes. He was losing patience rather quickly, though, as were his Musketeers.

It was also a relief to see how easily Elise made her way around the place. She was no stranger to any of the men under his command. They all seemed to like her, and she was welcomed everywhere, from the fencing lessons in the courtyard to the kitchen. D'Artagnan was even teaching her how to ride like a man. It was not all proper behaviour, but what could you expect when you let a young woman in a military Garrison? He could often hear her laugh and it warmed his heart. She had already suffered enough.

What would he do with her now? She could not possible stay with them. It was no place for a lady. Athos had suggested asking the Bonacieux to take her in. She could be of help with the business. There was still the problem of her staying with people who were not her family. Tréville refused to marry her to some random man just to resolve the problem. He wanted his niece to find some happiness after all she had been through.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in. Good morning, Elise. How are you?"

"Much better since you've been back," she smiled.

"I'm sorry we haven't had time to properly talk. I've been rather busy, but you did not seem to mind it much."

"I rather enjoy life at the Garrison. It was awkward and strange at the beginning. They can be so loud and I was definitely not used to it. Now, though, I could not imagine it any other way." She knew very well why he had asked her to come to his office so she had to insist on the fact that she was perfectly content with her current situation.

"Unfortunately, I am afraid it cannot last forever. The King has allowed it as long as no member of your family was around to supervise you, but he will not let his barracks be occupied by civilians when they could host more soldiers."

"Of course, the King. What would you do with me then? I already told Athos I will not let you lock me in a convent."

"Why would I do such a thing against your will?" He was surprised she was even scared by the idea. He did not know what her parents had intended for her, and since he was not a father, he was at a loss when it came to making decisions for children. He doubted his sister would have wished for Elise to become a nun. Her spirits did not suit the vocation.

"No. I will never go against your wishes, Elise. Trust me. But I am in a difficult position. Athos suggested that you could stay with Constance Bonacieux. I know they are in need of a lodger and you two seem to be friends."

"We are."

"However, I cannot let you, unmarried as you are, stay with them. Besides, I have a feeling Monsieur Bonacieux would not allow it either. He tends to dislike people related to Musketeers. That leaves us quite in a dead end, my poor child."

"I will not take a husband simply to stop being a burden." She crossed her arms, looking angrily at her uncle.

"Who said you are a burden?"

"Nobody, yet it is what you think. And you think marriage is the only solution for me."

"I must admit it has crossed my mind. At least consider it. Did you parents have any man in mind for you?"

"Yes, there was Monsieur Michel but he must easily be fifty. I will not accept it." Elise wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"I am almost fifty. Are you saying I am old?" He was trying to lighten her mood.

"You are my uncle and not some bald merchant after my parents' money."

"Very well. Anybody else then?"

Elise hesitated. It was her one chance to voice her desire. She went to look at the window, gathering her courage. Aramis was seating on a chair, its back propped against one of the pillars of the balcony, his legs stretched on the table in front of him. He looked like he was sleeping, his hat on his face to shade his eyes from the sun.

"What if there was someone else but not in Orléans? Here in Paris?" Elise finally asked, turning around to face her uncle.

"Did they let you go into town with them? I knew I could not trust them to protect you. They will hear about it!"

"No, uncle. They did no such thing. I promise. The only times I left the Garrison were to go see Constance and I was always with one of them. And there was the one time I went to the Palace. I never went anywhere else. Believe me."

Tréville was feeling anger build inside of him. Who was she talking about then?

"I beg you, do not be too cross. It was my wish as well, and I may actually have forced his hand a little."

"Who is it?"

"He has been nothing but helpful since the very beginning. Do not think ill of him, he only cares about my well-being and..."

Tréville did not let her finish. Instead, he stormed out of the door, his niece half-running to keep up with him. He reached the balcony, casting a glance at the courtyard.

"Aramis!" he thundered, all noises ceasing at once. Everybody looked up at him. The one Musketeer concerned with his wrath lost his balance and almost fell to the ground. When he looked up at the Captain, he saw Elise by his side, trying to calm him down. Trouble in sight.

"What have you done this time?" Athos hissed as he followed his friend up the stairs, Porthos and d'Artagnan behind them.

"Yes, Captain?" He was staying as far away from his officer as he could. He knew Tréville would never hurt him but he was acting like a protecting uncle right now. A very angry uncle.

"You three have no business here. Leave us."

"With all due respect, Sir, you seem quite furious at our friend and he may be in need of some help."

"Why? Have you seduced my niece, too?" At these words, Athos shook his head while the two others backed away, their hands raised to show they were innocent. Porthos slapped Aramis's shoulder before retreating to the safety of the courtyard. They may be his friends, they were not suicidal.

"Uncle, please, calm down."

"Go back to your room, Elise. This does not concern you."

"Yes, it does! It's my life we are talking about."

"How could you do this, Aramis?" Tréville seethed, coming so close their faces were almost touching.

"I think it would be better if we went to discuss this in a more private setting." His calm behaviour was infuriating the Captain. He was too aware of all the Musketeers watching the scene and he had to admit that the soldier was right.

"In my office. At once."

* * *

In the room, Elise refused to leave Aramis's side, too afraid of what her uncle would do if she left the two men by themselves. Tréville paced back and forth, not at all pleased by the fact that her hand was firmly pressed in the Musketeer's. They waited for him to start talking.

"I trusted you. I trusted you would care for my niece after her traumatic experience. I did not mean like this!"

"I have always respected Elise, Captain. I swear. I have done nothing she did not want. I did not force her."

"He didn't," she confirmed. "Aramis has been the best support when I needed it the most, uncle. He's been there when I was crying, and when I needed to talk. I would not be feeling as well today if it was not for him."

"You are young, Elise, and you don't know half of what I do. Did you simply think of the consequences for her?" Aramis did not look down when Tréville glared at him.

"I did. I even tried to stay away from her. I tried."

"You did not try hard enough! You have ruined her! Nobody will want her now!"

"I am not some merchandise and I do not want anybody else!" Aramis had never heard her shout so loud. Even with the door closed, he was sure the others could hear her. "He has not ruined anything, uncle. He's been very respectful."

"I will not let my niece be further involved with a Musketeer, that is all."

"You will not let her be involved with any Musketeer or simply with me?" Aramis challenged.

"I know you. How long will it last until you get bored and discard her for someone else? I will not let you break her heart."

"It is not my intention. I don't want to hurt her. I want her to be happy."

"Then leave her alone."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

Aramis took a step forward, shielding Elise with his body.

"I said, no."

"You are bordering on insubordination, Aramis."

"With all due respect, Sir, I am not talking to my commanding officer. I am talking to the uncle of the woman I love."

"You what?" Elise and Tréville asked at the same time. Aramis turned around to look at a shocked Elise.

"I would have preferred to say it in better circumstances but there may never be another moment. I love you. I'm in love with you," he repeated.

"I love you, too." Her voice shook as she said the words. For a second, she forgot they were not alone in the room and she smiled.

"Will you stop? I'm still here! And unless you intend to marry her, I do not want you to come near her anymore."

"That's unfair, uncle. You cannot threaten him like this."

"I will do everything it takes to protect you, Elise. Be it from him or from anybody else. I owe that much to your parents. Think hard about it, Aramis. Think about it. I do not want to see you again unless you come to me with a proposal."

The Musketeer felt his heart sank. He clearly remembered saying to Porthos that he did not want to marry anyone. He had never believed he was made for married life. It sounded dull and too far from what he expected of life on Earth. At the same time, a small part of him had always been aware that it was what Elise had thought would happen from the beginning. She had been raised this way. Besides, he had said he would not ruin her reputation and there was only one way to do that. He had just expressed his feelings out loud. It should have been an easy decision so why was he hesitating?

"I am waiting."

"I...I don't know. I... I'm sorry. I...I don't know." He could not look at Elise, not when he was unsure of their future together. He squeezed her hand instead and left the room, ashamed. He was such a coward.

* * *

As soon as the Musketeer was gone, Captain Tréville took out his frustration on the nearest wall, hitting it a couple of times with his fist. His niece was still looking at the open door unable to move. She could not decide what had shocked her more: knowing that Aramis was in love with her or realizing that marriage did not come as an obvious choice for him. She felt like crying.

"I should not have left you by yourself here with him," her uncle apologized, turning around to face her. Elise shook her head.

"This is my choice. I know more about Aramis than you think. I know perfectly well why you wish I would give him up. I will not. If it has to end, it will be his doing, not mine."

"Elise...Being a soldier's wife is not a happy life."

"If I can be with him, I know I will be as happy as I could be. I feel it in my heart."

"You've known him for barely a month."

"Didn't you say you wanted me to be happy and that you would not do anything to go against my wishes?"

"I did, although it was before discovering _he_ was involved."

"He may not be anymore..." she whispered, tears threatening to spill. It was Tréville's worst concern. He had been serving with Aramis for many years and he could simply not see him married. If the young man ended up breaking Elise's heart, it would not matter that a captain should not be violent with his soldiers. He would hit him until he could not feel his hands anymore. Elise welcomed her uncle's embrace, burying her head on his chest.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter XVIII

Aramis strode in the corridor, feeling furious at himself. He did not want to ruin Elise's life, but what would she think of him after what had just happened? He knew she had decided to accept his past and his mistakes because she intended to stay with him, to have a life with him. Instead, she had been betrayed in the worst way possible. The Musketeer wanted to beat himself up.

There were a small table and a couple of chairs on the balcony outside. He took his anger out on them, toppling them to the floor. The lantern crashed down as well, shards of broken glass everywhere. Aramis screamed out with rage, hitting the wall with his fist until it drew blood. It should have hurt, but there was no pain. He was too ashamed to feel physical pain. There was an eerie silence around him, and he realized he was making a fool of himself.

Captain Tréville did not want to see him unless he had made a decision? Very well. Aramis secured his hat on his head, straightened his uniform then ran down the stairs, passing his fellow Musketeers in the courtyard, but not looking at any of them. He headed to the gates to disappear in the crowd filling the street.

"Should we...?" d'Artagnan asked.

"What do you think? One for all and all for one," Porthos said, standing up and the three Musketeers left in pursuit of their friend.

It was not too difficult to find him. They toured some of the inns and taverns where they had their habits to eventually meet with him in a small one in a shady part of town. Aramis had obviously thought they would not go that far as he did not acknowledge them when they sat down. The Musketeer had chosen the table in the darkest corner of the room so even though there were few patrons, he would be left in peace. The bottle in front of him was untouched. The four of them remained silent for quite some time until Porthos started to drink. It would have been a pity to let such wine go to waste. After a couple of drinks, he looked intently at his friend.

"I should have known it would happen. She was looking at you differently."

"And you were behaving a little more like yourself these past days," d'Artagnan added. "If she's managed to improve your bad mood, we have something else to thank her for."

"Tréville did not look thankful."

"It's his niece, Porthos. Of course he's not thankful. Did you really think he would let Aramis bed her and then welcome him with open arms?"

"I did not bed her," Aramis finally said, still not looking at the others.

"I am glad to hear you have gained some common sense," Athos muttered. "If I were the Captain, I would have killed you if you had done so."

"Aren't we all relieved that you don't have a daughter!"

"What happened then? We heard shouts," Athos asked, ignoring d'Artagnan's comment.

"Either I marry her or I never see her again." Porthos groaned at the choice. He would not have traded places with his friend for anything in the world.

"If she revealed your relationship to her uncle and you confronted him, isn't the choice simple?"

"Please, d'Artagnan. Can you, for a second, imagine him _married_?"

"Why not? I would have married Constance if I had had the chance. Do you find this idea so ludicrous?"

"That's different. Can you imagine _Aramis _married?"

The one concerned understood perfectly well why Porthos was dubious. Aramis had had many lovers in the past, too many to even keep count of them. Few of them had really been important for him. He could not stop worrying that one day, he might not feel the same way about Elise. It was Tréville's concern, as well, he knew it. He was afraid of his own reputation, afraid that he could not change so much.

"I almost got married. A long time ago," Aramis confessed, cutting their conversation short. He had never talked to them about it. "We were young and she fell pregnant."

"What happened?"

"She's dead. But before she died, she said that it was better this way because she could not see me living a quiet life, with children at my feet."

"Could you?"

"Yes. I think," Aramis eventually said. "But I am afraid I would quickly be bored."

"Elise does not seem like a girl who would ask you to give up soldiering for her. She would probably just yell at you for getting into drunken fights." Porthos shook his head remembering her anger the week before when she took care of their injuries.

"What if I die and she is left by herself?"

"Everybody must die one day," Athos said. "If you are so afraid of dying, you will never take any risks."

"I know. I am not afraid of dying. I simply worry about her."

"You've been married before," d'Artagnan added, speaking to Athos. "Don't you have any advice?"

"My marriage is not an example to follow," the other answered bitterly. "Elise is nothing like Milady. I think we can all agree that Elise is a great girl and we would all like to see her be happy. I would hate to see her heart broken." He looked pointedly at Aramis who could feel the glare even with his eyes fixed on the table.

"She would not mind being a soldier's wife. She has said it often and she can be rather stubborn," Aramis admitted.

"And do you love her?" Porthos demanded out of the blue, finishing the bottle of wine. The three Musketeers watched as their friend finally raised his head to face them. They were not judging him, they simply stated the facts, showing him the best path to take. The answer to the question was "yes", yes he loved her. Yet, he had loved many girls before her, ones that were taken from him, or ones that he knew he could not have. Thinking about it, Elise may be the first girl he truly loved and who was completely free to be his.

Talking about it with his friends had helped him see clearer. He answered Porthos's question:

"Yes."

"Do you want her to be happy?"

"Yes."

"Does she make you happy?"

"Yes."

"Can you see yourself with her in ten years?"

"If nothing befalls us, yes."

"There, bam! Best matchmaker in Paris!" Porthos boasted, satisfied with his friend's answers. "The Lord be our witness, I believe there's a wedding in the making!" Aramis granted him a small smile. He could not believe what was happening. They stared at him for some more time, waiting for a breakdown or at least some other reaction. He was too stunned by the turn of the conversation and what it meant.

"I should head back to the Garrison, I guess," he sighed, standing up from the table.

* * *

In the street, Athos quickly caught up with Aramis. The two others had stayed behind to celebrate. The older Musketeer did not really know how he felt about these new developments. It could only be good for Aramis to settle down, and Elise seemed like the perfect one to help him do so. However, he had secrets which could complicate their future life.

"There is still more to discuss and I could not do it in front of them."

"She knows," Aramis simply stated.

"Are you mad? Why would you put her in such danger?" Athos said, grabbing the other's arm to force him to stop and face him. Aramis shook his arm free.

"I did not tell her willingly. Who do you think I am? She figured it out by herself. She's a very clever girl."

"And does she know what will happen to you if they find out? Does she know you will be hanged? She would be shunned from the world for the rest of her life. Are you telling me that she is ready to become a traitor's wife?"

"I told you she is stubborn! And weren't you the one saying that life is about taking risks?"

"I was talking about you!" Their argument was starting to draw the attention of the passer-bys, even though they were trying to keep their voices down. Athos resumed his walk, seething.

"She will not be a traitor's wife and I will not leave her on her own. If anything should happen, I will make sure to leave the city and I will take her with me."

"A life as outlaws. Even better."

"What would you have me do? Not marry her, then? Simply because one day, someone might have doubts and uncover the trickery? Don't you think I have thought about it? I have, Athos. There is no taking back the secret from her. She will be better protected with me by her side than if I gave her up."

Athos assessed his friend, trying to decide if he was slowly turning into a mad fool or if he was making some sense. In the end, he decided that he had done his part by voicing his disapproval. He grabbed Aramis by the shoulders.

"Very well, then. We'll have to make even more sure no one ever learns the truth. For her sake."

He left without another word toward the Garrison. Aramis stopped on the side of the street. Too much had happened in too little time and he desperately needed some time alone. He knew that everything his friends had said was true. He wanted the best for Elise and the best was to marry her. The more he thought about it, the more the idea did not repulse him as much as he had imagined. The fact that it was Elise certainly helped a lot. It was the only way for him to stay close to his friends as well. If he declined Tréville's offer, he would be forced to leave the Musketeers and certainly the city.

Besides, he had not lied. Elise was so lively that he could very well see them together. He could see them arguing because with her spirit, she was bound to confront him often. He could also see them enjoying life. Not a too quiet life, hopefully. Not with Elise. Aramis hoped she would forgive him for not making this decision as soon as it had been offered. It took some time to accept that your life would change so dramatically.

* * *

The sun was setting down, Elise's room was becoming darker. There had been no news of Aramis since the morning and she was growing restless. Where was he? What was he doing? She had not dared wander outside to look for him or his friends. The entire Garrison had to know what had happened between their Captain and the Musketeer. She did not want to see anyone before the whole affair was settled.

How it would be settled, she had no idea. They had never talked about it, but she thought that it was as obvious for Aramis as it was for her. She chastised herself for not knowing better. With a reputation such as his, she should have realized that marriage was not the first option on his list. They could at least have discussed it instead of him running away like a thief. She was angry at him for it. On the bright side, he had stood firm to her uncle, even confessing that he loved her. She could always hold on to this piece of knowledge.

What if he never came back? What if he decided he did not want to be stuck with her for the rest of his life? Was it the reason why he was always asking her to think about her wish to stay with him? But he had explained that he had stopped seeing this Marguerite because he only wanted to be with Elise. Her head was beginning to ache.

There was a knock on her door, and it opened before she could say anything. She stood up from the bed, drying the few tears still on her face.

"I heard what happened," her brother said. "Uncle was furious. It's a nice change for him to be angry with you and not me. Who would have thought you would put yourself in such a situation?"

"Christophe, please. I am in no mood to fight. I wish Mother was here tonight."

"I think she would have had the same reaction as our uncle. A Musketeer, really?"

"And why not? He saved my life. If they had not come to bring you to Paris, the bandits would have taken me. And who knows where I would be now." She shuddered at the thought. "He tended to my wounds. Have you seen it?" she asked, dropping the sleeve of her dress to show her shoulder. Christophe had to look away.

"I never wanted you to be hurt. You're my sister."

"And what about our parents? They were more than hurt. They are dead. They are dead and we are alone. Can't you see? I wish you realized what you did."

"They could have helped me and they would still be with us."

"They did! They asked Uncle to take you with him to put you in the right path. You cannot blame Father for not putting up with your endless debt."

"None of it would have happened if he had."

Elise threw her hands in the air. If she had not cared so much about her young brother, she could have slapped him. She did not want to see any more.

"Leave me alone. If you only came here to mock me and speak ill of Mother and Father, I no longer want to see you." He did not move. "Leave me alone!" she said, a little louder.

"Is there a problem, Elise?" She breathed with relief at the voice, and she smiled in spite of himself when she saw Aramis appear behind her brother. "I believe she told you to leave her alone," the Musketeer said coldly, glaring at Christophe. The young boy glared back, still not moving. Aramis usually had no patience for him, but he had even less tonight. He grabbed Christophe by the collar and threw him out of the room, shutting the door.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." They stared at each other during long minutes, neither one nor the other knowing what to say or how to say it.

"We need to talk," Aramis decided.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter XIX

_"We need to talk," Aramis decided._

Elise dreaded what he was going to tell her. He looked uneasy, fidgeting on his spot. It was not like him to be so nervous. There was something quite not right and she was not sure she wanted to know what it was. She did not think she could contain her anger if he brought bad news.

"I wanted to see you before going to see your uncle. I owe you an apology."

"What for?"

"I should not have left like I did this morning. It was wrong and you did not deserve it. I was scared."

"Scared?"

"Yes, ever since I became a Musketeer, I have seen so much violence. I have given so much violence that I never thought it would be possible for me to settle down. I never tried to because there was no need for it. Besides, there was no one I could see myself with. I did not want to give up such an adventurous and busy lifestyle. But now, I am not so sure anymore...Something has changed. My life is still rather complicated, you know that. However, I..."

"Are you scared your life is going to change?" Elise asked. "I have already told you I'll accept you, baby, Queen and soldiering. I don't see how this is changing your life."

"No, I am not scared of this change. I know what you said and I will never be able to thank you enough for it."

"What is it that you fear then?" He was hardly making sense to her. He looked like he wanted to come closer but dared not. There was a sheepish look on his face.

"Myself. You know what people think of me whenever women are involved. You saw how the Captain reacted. He did not want you to have anything to do with me. He's afraid of what I could do to you. I must confess that it worries me a little as well."

"People can change, Aramis."

"What if I can't? What if I am too weak? I don't want you to suffer because of me."

"It does you credit to worry so much about me. I trust you, Aramis, just like you trusted me with your secrets. I trust that you will not betray me; I will do everything in my power so you don't. Thank you for telling this to me. But I know what I am getting myself into." The Musketeer shook his head, a smile on his face. He felt quite relieved.

"It seemed impossible for me to find someone I would love enough and who would like me enough in return to consider marrying her. And then, there you came. I am not rich, Elise."

"It does not matter."

"It could become dangerous."

"You will teach me how to defend myself."

"We may have to run away."

"I have always wanted to travel." Aramis's smile broadened. When she wanted something, she stopped at nothing.

"Will you marry me?" Elise crossed the short distance between them, embracing him, her head on his chest. All the anger and fear left her heart.

"Yes, yes, of course yes!" She took off the hat from his head and tiptoed to reach his lips. There were tears on her face and her lips were salty from them. Holding her in his arms, Aramis knew it was the right decision. "I thought you were not coming back," she confessed.

"It takes some time to come to terms with such a big decision. I still don't quite believe it myself. I think I won't until we're at the altar. But one thing is certain, I love you, and I only want your happiness."

She hugged him more tightly, her arms around his neck.

"You've made my life better when I was at the lowest. You've changed my life."

"Shall we go ask your uncle if I may change it even more?"

She nodded on his shoulder and they went to speak with Captain Tréville.

* * *

The Captain was busy talking with Athos. The Musketeer was explaining some of the missions which had happened while the Captain was away. Someone knocked on the door and after a few seconds, in came his niece and Aramis. They were holding hands, as always.

"Athos, please, leave us," the Captain ordered. The Musketeer stared at his friend on the way out, clearly telling him that he better choose his words wisely and not make any mistake. "So you're back."

"Yes, Sir. I apologise for this morning. It was unfair for you to learn about our relationship the way you did. I should have come to you sooner." Aramis had decided to be nothing if not diplomatic. Tréville's eyes were fixed on him, and he was not saying a word. A silent nod showed he accepted the apology. "I love Elise. I love her with all my heart, and my only wish is that she has a good life where she can forget the horrors she's faced."

"You and I think alike on that matter."

"I believe I can help with this. I can provide protection, and affection, and care. Not a lot of money I'm afraid, but I hope we can find some arrangement."

Tréville sighed. His soldier sounded sincere. The words "Aramis" and "married life" had never seemed to go together. Then, his niece had to come along and change everything. If she was as stubborn as his sister used to be, it was no wonder Aramis had changed so radically.

"Is it what you really want?" he asked her.

"I've already said yes to him, uncle."

"It does not matter if it's in two months, two years or twenty. If you ever make a mistake and break her heart, I will break you," Tréville threatened, pointing his finger at Aramis.

"It will not happen, Sir."

"I've said I would accept what makes you happy. After all, he must be better than Monsieur Michel, am I correct?"

"Much better, uncle. So much better."

"Then, I give you my bless..." He did not have the chance to finish his sentence. Elise jumped to his neck, thanking him endlessly. There was a commotion outside in the corridor and the door opened on the three Musketeers who had obviously been eavesdropping on the conversation. There was much back-slapping and handshakes with their friend.

Aramis was smiling at them, relieved by Tréville's acceptance. He still could not realize what was truly happening to him; it was as if he was watching the scene from outside his body. He could hear Elise's laughter and see her smile before Porthos hugged her and she disappeared in his arms. He was already calling her "his sister". Yes, everything would be all perfectly fine in the end even though this new life left him insecure. Wine would certainly help.

* * *

Life became rather busy for Aramis after that night. He still had his many duties to perform as well as many discussions with Captain Tréville regarding his future with his niece. They had to find a place to live and unfortunately, being a soldier did not pay much. Elise offered her mother's jewellery since it was the only heirloom she had left.

It had been decided that the mansion in Orléans would be sold as no one wished to go back to inhabit it. Even though she was the oldest child, Elise was a girl and could not inherit it. The money would go to her brother. Aramis was furious at the idea of her being deprived of something she deserved. The Captain's feelings were similar and since Christophe was still a minor, he acted as his tutor. He decided to delegate some of this money to Elise to help her settle in her new house and life. It bothered Aramis that he could not provide all the money. Where was the honour in having your bride's family pay for everything? It was then decided that he would reimburse his superior when he would have the chance.

With all this agitation, his night duty at the royal nursery came as a much welcome soothing bubble. It would be a strange life he would soon have. Elise on one side, his son on the other.

"I heard you are getting married," Marguerite said to him, when she saw him in the corridor. She still resented him but she had the wisdom to act like a lady. "I wish you the best of happiness."

"Thank you." He bowed his head as she left, her skirts shuffling on the wooden floor. After a few minutes, a voice called for him from inside the nursery.

"Come in."

The Queen was sitting in an armchair, the Dauphin in her arms. He was holding some toy in his hand and its little bell was chiming. Aramis came to them, dropping to his knees to be closer to his son. He kissed his forehead. It was the first time he'd seen him since he recovered from his fever. Baby Louis looked completely healed and not at all tired despite the late hour.

"Good evening, baby. Good evening, your Majesty," he added quickly.

"It seems that you, Sir, are at the heart of many gossips at the Palace." When he raised his head, he saw that there was only kindness in her eyes as she softly spoke.

"I did not think her Majesty listened to such gossip."

"It is one of my many talents. They think I am not listening when in reality, I hear every word they say. I merely choose not to remember most of it. Is it a simple gossip, though?"

"No, it isn't. Well, it depends on what you have heard..."

"The word is that you are engaged to marry Captain Tréville's niece."

"That is correct indeed." Aramis sat down on the floor, his hand tickling his child. The toy was not interesting anymore and it fell to the floor with one last chime of its bell. The baby babbled as he tried to grab the fingers moving in front of his eyes.

"I am happy for you Aramis."

"Thank you, your Majesty."

"I could see that she was fond of you when you escorted her here. She will make you happy and she will give many healthy sons."

Aramis had often thought about it, about the children they would have together. They would never divert him from his first-born even though one day, he was well aware that he would have another first-born. He would get to be a real father for this one, one who would always be there, day or night. Not one who had to hide behind curtains and closed doors.

"You will take her to the Palace once you are married. I wish to see her again. She had a very interesting conversation."

"It will be my pleasure." The Queen smiled at him, pleased to see that he was a lot less miserable than the first time she'd seen him in the nursery. He looked like himself again, the Musketeer who had protected her at the convent. She shook her head, still smiling.

"What is it?"

"You. Married. I am sorry but I would never have thought such a thing would occur."

"Believe me, you are not the only one. I am the first one surprised by the turn of events. But if it is God's will, I will not go against it. She makes me happy."

"I see it on your face. You are lucky you have found someone like her, Aramis." A shadow passed in her eyes before she looked down at her child.

"It will not change anything for us, will it? I will still come watch over him when I am assigned to, and I will still be around to care for him. I promised I would remain your friend and there is no need for it to change."

"It is true that I look forward to the nights when you are on duty here. They are very dear to me. Won't it make your life complicated?"

"Her Majesty should not concern herself with my well-being. You have so much more to focus on, including him," he said, looking down at their son. "He will soon be toddling and you will spend your days chasing after him." Aramis grinned at her, imagining the Queen in her heavy dress trying to stop the heir was escaping. She laughed.

"It would not be proper behaviour, would it? No, I believe I will have to assign this task to others. Musketeers for example. It would greatly entertain the King and I to see such soldiers being at a loss against this little babe."

Aramis found it refreshing to see that she could forget that she was Queen of France to speak more freely and allow herself to joke. They both shared a laugh and it puzzled baby Louis who looked at their faces with big eyes. Then, he laughed as well, bringing joy to both his parents. As he left the Palace many hours later, Aramis kept thinking back on his conversation with the Queen. His life would not be more complicated than it was now. Instead of going back to a cold bed at the Garrison after his night watch and some very close time with his son, he would simply go back to his wife. His friends meant the world to him, he would die for them, but knowing that there would always be someone waiting for him at home, it was definitely something he could get used to.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter XX

The month of May passed very quickly as did the month of June. The weather was growing warmer so Aramis was making it one of his priorities to show Elise some of the beauties of the capital city. She was glad she could walk around holding his arm without worrying that someone would see them. She also enjoyed leaving the Garrison for their walks. The Musketeers were very dear to her, but most of them had taken the habit of smiling crookedly at her whenever she was in the room. It was beginning to embarrass her. Although she knew what she wanted and she was resolute in her decision, they were all thinking about what would happen to her on her wedding night. It was deeply annoying that this time could not belong to her and Aramis only. Porthos particularly enjoyed making her blush.

For the Musketeer, each of their moments alone simply comforted him in his choice. The decision had been made very rapidly and his fear that his affection would pass too soon never occurred. Elise sometimes looked sad, thinking about her parents and her brother who was slowly starting to understand his mistakes. From the very beginning and the first time they had talked in the hostel near Orléans, Aramis had always been there to listen to her, to her troubles and her doubts. He may have actually started caring for her as early as that night. The thought had been too weak at the time and mixed with his duty to bring her back alive to Paris that it had taken weeks for him to realize it.

It was in the open now, and it made clear sense to him. There had hardly been a day when Aramis had felt broody since he'd asked Elise to marry him. His life was as busy as ever: missions out of town, watches at the Palace or when the King went into the city, material details to settle for the marriage, these times with Elise, and his nights out with the Musketeers. He needed those to breathe and have some time for himself.

Elise was spending a lot of time with Constance since they had bought the fabric for her wedding dress from Monsieur Bonacieux. It kept her mind occupied to focus on the wedding day. She often wondered how she would spend her days when all this effervescence would be over.

"Will you stop moving? One of these needles will end up in your arm otherwise." Constance was busy putting the final touches to Elise's dress. The girl could hardly stand still as impatient as she was to see her reflection in a mirror.

Her threat was effective a few minutes only. Constance sighed in frustration even though she could not blame her friend. It was not every day that you tried on the dress you would get married in. She remembered all these years ago when she was the bride and she had marvelled at her own gown.

"I'm sorry, Constance. It is hard to believe tomorrow is my wedding day. Can you believe it?"

"I can easily believe that you will not be wearing this dress if you keep it up." She laughed, putting both her hands on Elise's shoulders so she would turn around.

"I am so excited. And nervous, I guess. Was it like that for you?"

"I think every bride feels the same on the eve of such an important day." Constance was very fond of her husband and when she was younger, she even thought she actually loved him. It was before she met d'Artagnan, though. Her friend was lucky she was allowed to marry someone she cared about so much. Her marriage would be far happier than Constance's.

"I wish my mother was here, though. Not that you are not a great help and support, but it's not the same. I have so many questions."

"I'll answer them, Elise. You know you can trust me. Besides, we will almost be neighbours soon. I expect us to spend much more time together."

The young girl was extremely glad for that. Her uncle had found them a small but picturesque house which was located less than two streets away from the Bonacieux's. Aramis was constantly complaining that he could not bring much money to their marriage, but when he realized the price of the house could be evenly split in half between her uncle and him, his face had been priceless. Elise had not seen him _that_ proud often. Her parents had been richer than he would ever be however, he had managed to secure some money over the years. They would not lack a thing.

Elise was looking forward to taking care of this house. It made no doubt that the other Musketeers would spend much time there as well. It did no bother her. They were Aramis's family after all.

"I often wonder...Would my parents approve of this marriage? My uncle is not entirely satisfied with my decision so, would they have had the same reaction? Am I making a mistake getting married while I should still be mourning them?

"Your parents would want you to have everything you can wish for in your difficult situation. I am sure they are watching over you from Heaven and that they are overjoyed to see their daughter starting a new life. Now, come and see what you look like," Constance said more cheerfully. It was perfectly normal to be frightened before your wedding day so it was her task as a friend to make sure Elise's worries did not overshadow this important moment.

Elise gazed at herself in the mirror, taking in the embroidery on the corset, the long sleeves with ended with lace on her shoulders. It would hide her wound at least a little. The skirt was full and as she put her hands on her hips, her new petticoat ruffled around her legs. She could not see her feet. It was not too sophisticated, she liked it.

"We will put your hair up like this." Constance demonstrated, gathering the long curls in her hand on top of Elise's head. "And we will let some curls down to frame your face. Have you decided which earrings you will wear?"

"The blue ones." The colour reminded her of Aramis's cape.

"Very good choice."

"Your husband sells the best fabrics in the city, Constance. I never want to take this dress off. It is so shiny and soft."

The embroideress had used silver string to create the flowers on the corset and at the bottom of the skirt. They glimmered in the candlelight when she moved.

There was a knock on the front door and they heard the servant girl open it. She came to Constance to announce a Musketeer. She was indeed followed by Porthos.

"Your escort is here!" he explained, taking off his hat before looking hard at the young girl. Constance swatted his arm.

"Do not gape like a fish. This girl is already taken!" He shook his head, smiling.

"Of course, she is. You look amazing, Elise."

"Thank you. I hope it will trigger the same reaction in Aramis tomorrow."

"Of course, it will," Constance reassured. "Go take it off so it does not get soiled."

Porthos waited a long moment for Elise to finally be ready. They said goodbye to their friend after Constance promised to come to the Garrison to help Elise in the morning.

* * *

They walked in comfortable silence, Porthos holding the precious garment on his shoulder.

"Nervous?" the Musketeer asked when they were almost back at the Garrison. It would be the last night she spent there.

"As anyone would be."

"Do not worry. I have never heard anyone complain about Aramis."

"Complain about what? I do not think he has been married before. Or you just have betrayed your best friend."

"I was not talking about the ceremony," he replied, winking at her. Elise looked at him with dark eyes when she understood the jest. Porthos was enjoying this way too much. She hurried along, the man close behind. "I am only joking! You know you will like it!"

"Like what?" Aramis asked. He was speaking with the fellow Musketeer guarding the gates of the Garrison. He noticed Elise's flushed cheeks as she came to his side.

"You."

"Of course she will!" his friend boasted, grinning widely and they both laughed at loud. The girl was annoyed at their mocking, but she was so nervous that the sound relieved a little the tension she felt. She smiled as well. It had been more than four months since she had left Orléans, and she was becoming used to their humour and their endless banter.

"At least _he_ will have a woman in his bed every night. One he did not have to beg for her company."

The soldier at the gate spit out his drink as Porthos lost his smile. Elise was looking at him proudly, one hand on her hip, the other on Aramis's arm. The Musketeer laughed even louder at his friend's shocked face.

"Ouch! Your training is complete! She's outsmarted you! Well done, my dear!"

Porthos cursed then slapped her shoulder roughly, as if she was a man and one of them. In a sense, she was. She had seen so much, suffered so much that for him, she was part of the company. Even though he was upset about her joke, he was proud of her. She was witty.

"A bride should not be talking like this the day before committing her life in front of God. Shame on you," he joked, pushing the heavy dress in her arms. Elise almost lost her balance.

"Let me help you with it," Aramis offered.

"No!" she exclaimed. "I mean...thank you but I will manage. I do not want you to see it. It'll be a surprise."

"And a great surprise, you can trust me."

"Have you seen it? How come he has seen it and I can't?"

"Do not be jealous. He only saw it because he barged on Constance and I. Will you help me?" Elise asked Pierre who dried his hand on his uniform before taking the dress from her hands. "I will see you tomorrow then?" Her eyes shone when she asked the question.

"I will be waiting for you. Rest well." Aramis kissed her cheek and watched her go up the stairs inside the barracks.

He could hardly believe that tomorrow at the same hour, he would be married. It was no simple talk or plan; it had become reality. She had a new dress and she was joking about her wedding night. Aramis was looking forward to the wedding night. He awaited it with great anticipation. It was becoming more and more difficult to refrain his ardour when they were kissing how ever chaste it was.

"Are you having second thoughts?"

"Asking this question is like asking if I wish to see my life end. The Captain will kill me if I'm not at the church in the morning."

"He will not be the only one. I like this girl. She is not afraid to speak her mind, and I can perfectly see who will be master of the house." Aramis rolled his eyes.

"Please, Porthos. Have you seen how small she is? My arguments will always win. Besides, she is ticklish." The Musketeer whistled at the revelation, narrowing his eyes.

"Are you certain you actually need a wedding night?"

"Yes, I do. It cannot come soon enough, trust me."

"Well, then. You should get some rest tonight to be fit for your big day. You're getting married in the morning!" Porthos pushed his friend in the courtyard.

* * *

Aramis sat on his bed, the cross in his hand, praying. Tonight's prayer was one of the most important of his life. He asked God to grant him much courage for the day to come. It was the right thing, it was what he desired. It did not make it easy. He knew his doubts will leave as soon as the ceremony was over; it had to be performed first, though.

His mind turned to Elise, somewhere else in the barracks, either sleeping or thinking about their incoming commitment, too. He had to admit that he could not wait to see her in this mysterious dress, to hold her hand. She looked so content when they talked about the wedding and what would follow, it made him happy, too.

Suddenly, he heard someone running in the corridor, the noise coming closer to his room and d'Artagnan opened the door without knocking. He looked distressed.

"You must come at once! Porthos and Athos have had too much to drink and they have started to fight. It could end badly."

Aramis scrambled to his feet to put on his boots before running after d'Artagnan. Tonight, of all nights!


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter XXI

Aramis followed d'Artagnan down in the common room, but stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the bottom of the stairs. It seemed that the entire Garrison was there, and nobody was fighting.

"Did you really think we would let you rest peacefully on your last night as a bachelor?" Porthos called from the left side. He was standing on a table, a bottle of wine in each of his hands. All the others cheered or clapped their hands. Aramis smiled at them, welcoming the many back-slapping and the full glass thrust in his hand. All for one indeed, especially when there was alcohol involved.

"I should have known better than to believe what this one was saying," he said, pointing to d'Artagnan when he finally joined his three closest friends. The atmosphere was loud and joyous, it felt as if they had managed to bring a tavern inside the military place.

"What? Aren't I a fantastic comedian?" the youngest complained, feinting to be offended.

"Yes, you are. I was worried for a minute. You could have simply told me the truth though."

"And where would be the fun in that? Here, drink some more".

Porthos refilled all of their glasses then seemed to think for a second. In the end, he took away Aramis's glass to give him the bottle.

"He needs to be conscious tomorrow," Athos warned even though he had already drunk much more than Aramis.

"I will be. When have I not recovered from too much wine?" He drank some straight from the bottle, feeling the alcohol warm his inside. He was very grateful that his friends had thought to make this night special. It was what he needed. He drank some more.

More Musketeers sat down with them, the few who were married being asked to provide some useful advice. Aramis started to listen intently but quickly lost interest when he realized that Athos had disappeared. He looked around the crowded room to eventually spot him near the empty fireplace, nursing his own bottle of wine. Could it be that all this raucous and the impending nuptials reminded him of his own marriage?

As he was about to stand up to join his friend, Athos shook his head, indicating that Aramis should not worry about him and enjoy the night. It was exactly what he did. His first bottle was soon finished and a new one magically appeared by his side, as well as a third one some time after. At this point, the Musketeer could not see clearly and the room spun whenever he moved. Porthos was challenging all of their fellow companions to arm-wrestle. He was winning most of the challenges, yet it was becoming more and more difficult. He was too drunk to concentrate. When he lost to two younger soldiers in a row, he gave up.

"You are getting softer, Porthos. If they had been Red Guards, you would have won more easily."

"He would have cheated," d'Artagnan observed.

"You are lucky I don't want to bruise your lovely face for tomorrow. Or I would show you how soft I am not," Porthos slurred, reaching for some brandy. He tipped the bottle on the table, which was not so dramatic as it was also empty. "I let them win, because _I_ always win whenever I bet. I'll show you. There." He stole two bottles from the hands of those sitting nearby and put one in front of d'Artagnan. "I bet I can down mine in one faster that you will."

"What are we gambling on?"

"Night watches."

"How many?"

"Three?"

"Five."

"Five it is then," Porthos agreed, twirling his moustache, ready to win.

"Wait! What about Aramis?" They seemed to have forgotten their friend who was watching them or at least attempting to discern shapes out of the blur in front of him. The new gamble had attracted a crowd and someone put something in his hand. He did not bother looking at what it was. He started drinking it at once, the two others hurrying to keep along. Putting the bottle back on the table was the last thing Aramis remembered doing that night.

* * *

Cold water awoke Aramis. He bolted upright, cursing whoever had just assaulted him in such a way. His head ached from the sudden move and he lay down again. The sun was on his face, it hurt even with his eyes closed. Someone pushed him with their foot to produce some sort of reaction.

"Go away..." He made to turn in his bed, only to realize there was no sheet under him. Rather it was dirt and hay. Someone else cursed next to him, and Aramis once again felt water soak his face and his shirt.

"Wake up! You are getting married in a matter of hours!" Athos hissed.

"Too loud..." Porthos complained. Aramis opened his eyes slowly, the older Musketeer looming above him.

"Will your recover from that much wine and brandy?" There was sarcasm in his voice.

"Stop shouting, please."

"Stand up, Porthos. We need to get him ready or the Captain will have both of our hides."

Aramis turned his head to the side, ignoring the painful throbbing. His friend was also lying down. It took him a few minutes to sit up. He took in their surroundings, looking confused and very much hangover.

"Why are we in the courtyard? How did we end up here?"

"A very good question, indeed. But not one which requires immediate solving. Come on."

Porthos staggered to his feet, water dripping from his clothes. He shook his head, groaning as it hurt. They both grabbed one of Aramis's arms to pull him up. He had to hold on to them in order to stay upright.

"Last night was very entertaining. I don't think I remember all of it but from what I do remember, I rather enjoyed myself. Thank you."

"Our pleasure. Now, we need to give you a bath. You reek."

"Haven't you just given me one?" Athos started to walk faster in response, the two others complaining that it was too painful. Each of the steps they took made them want to vomit. They were almost at the top of the stairs when Aramis did just that. Porthos gagged and Athos rolled his eyes.

"You need to eat as well. You cannot do that again in church."

"Church, right. Today's my wedding." Aramis wiped his mouth.

"He remembers!" More sarcasm. The Musketeer was roughly dragged to his room and sat down on his bed. Porthos went to find some food and when he came back almost an hour later, Aramis was half-naked. There were bruises on his chest he did not remember having the day before.

"Did you do that?" he asked Porthos.

"How could I say? I am so hangover it took me forever to just walk to the kitchen."

"Yes, he did." d'Artagnan had joined them. His state was not as terrible as theirs, but he did not look very fresh or rested either. "Do you remember gambling on who would down their bottle first? We could not say who won because you finished it at the same time. You decided to fight for it."

"A stupid decision," Athos commented. He threw a clean shirt and breeches at Aramis who started a miserable attempt at putting them on.

"It was rather funny to watch, actually. You could barely stand up and you both passed out quite quickly."

"Who won then?"

"I think Aramis did manage to punch your face, but he passed out first."

"It does hurt," Porthos confirmed, feeling his jaw. "I will not hold it against you since I won! What did we gamble on?"

"Enough the lot of you," Athos decided. He was tired of watching Aramis trying to put his arm through the collar of his shirt and went to help him. "Such a child. Do I need to feed you as well?"

"I am not hungry." He lay down as soon as he was properly clothed. There were more curses and two strong arms propped him against the wall so he would stay up. Then, someone slapped him.

"You will eat and if we have to restrain you and force it down your throat, we will," Athos ordered. His friend raised an eyebrow at him and smiled.

"You'll almost make me believe it is your daughter I'm marrying."

"Thanks to the Lord you are not." He put the plate on his lap. Aramis looked at the food, finding the mere thought of eating it repulsive. He knew Athos would go through with his threat though, so he swallowed a piece of cheese.

"Some wine would certainly help." The older Musketeer stared coldly, his arms crossed while the two others were trying to muffle their laughter. If he could joke, Aramis had recovered enough. He would probably still be hangover for the ceremony but he may not be sick. Athos would take it.

* * *

Elise had woken up quite rested from her night. She felt excited, but also more nervous than ever. Constance had come to help her get ready for the ceremony, and she had tried many times to make her eat something, without success. The dress looked more beautiful than the previous day. She hoped Aramis would like it.

To help her calm down, Constance was telling her how her own wedding day had been, explaining that there was nothing to truly fear. Elise listened intently as her friend was taking care of her hair. There was a lot of it and it would be refreshing to have none of it in her neck. The day looked like it would be quite hot. It was summer after all.

"My work is unimpressive compared to the one of the Queen's hairdresser, but you still look very pretty."

"It is perfect, Constance. Thank you." She could not help but touch it, slightly moving the flowers they had used as ornaments. They smelled delightful. She then put on her earrings and the one ring she had always seen her mother wear. It would remind Elise of her and she would be closer to her daughter on such a special day.

"Are you certain you do not want any food? It will be long before you sit again to eat."

"I suppose I could try." The answer satisfied Constance who left to find sustenance.

Elise was left alone in front of the mirror for some time, gazing her herself. It had been so long since she had worn such a great garment and had her hair done in such a fashion. She was getting used to wearing it down and not really bothering about it. She did not hear the knock on the door but smiled when she saw that her brother had come to see her.

Turning around, she stood up to face him. Christophe looked a little better these days. The harsh treatment he was receiving at the Garrison seemed to have some effects at last. He had already apologised to her for what had happened in Orléans and he had even looked sad when talking about their parents' deaths. Of course, all of this occurred after he was administered a rather painful beating by d'Artagnan. Elise could not remember what had started it, but whatever it was, it had changed things for her brother.

The men refused to tell her what had happened. Not even Aramis. She should simply be grateful that Christophe was coming around. She was. He still whined and pestered whenever he had to perform duties he hated, but at least he was showing more respect to those who deserved it.

"You look gorgeous."

"Thank you. You could almost pass for a Musketeer." He was not wearing the battered clothes which were usually on his back. Their uncle must have given him some old pieces of a uniform to wear for the ceremony. He could almost have passed for a gentleman.

"Uncle wanted to know if you were ready."

"Almost. Constance went to find some food." Now that she was dressed and her hair was done, her stomach was beginning to wake up. She had the feeling she would faint if she did not eat anything. They could not have that.

"I will let him know."

He left as quickly as he had arrived and Elise waited nervously. She was impatient to leave for the church.

* * *

There you have it: a 17th-century bachelor party!


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter XXII

The church was not big and there were not many people attending the ceremony. Elise's family was scarce and Aramis's was only made of Musketeers. Constance and her husband had arrived after Aramis and his friends. Her husband avoided looking at d'Artagnan. If he could have avoided being here at all, he would certainly have done so. His wife was the closest friend Elise had though, so she had fought hard to be present. Some of Captain Tréville's friends had come as well.

Aramis swayed on his feet near the altar. The priest gave him a reproving look.

"Shall I ask someone to go fetch you a stick to remain standing?" Athos asked. The other shook his head. He had drunk a massive amount of water in the last hour to clear his mind, but he was still tired and staying idle was not helping.

"I am hot," he complained, tucking on his uniform. The leather jacket was too tight and it seemed to be closing in on his chest. The cape he wore above it was not helping, either. Although it was tied under his right arm, it felt like it was choking him. Athos glanced at his friend to see perspiration on his brow.

"If you faint, Aramis, I will kick you so hard you will pass out."

"I fail to see how it would improve matters."

"You are nervous, that is all. It will soon pass."

Aramis nodded, wiping his forehead. His hands were moist, too. He was certainly a little apprehensive and the lack of rest was against him. It required much concentration to keep his eyes open. He wished there was some fresh air in the church.

Then, the doors opened and in came Elise with her uncle. The sight woke him up at once. Porthos had not lied; it was a great surprise indeed. She looked amazing, almost like a princess would. She was looking straight at him and he smiled. Captain Tréville said nothing to him when he put Elise's hand in the Musketeer's but his eyes spoke for him. There was the same warning as always in them. Aramis knew it too well and nodded.

"You look like a Queen," he whispered as he brought her hand to his mouth to kiss it. She smiled back, perfectly knowing what this compliment meant coming from Aramis. It meant everything.

The mass seemed to last longer than usual and he was glad they could spend most of it either sitting or kneeling. Aramis could feel Elise breathing next to him. She sounded as nervous as he was so it was reassuring. The priest's homily was so long that he quickly lost interest. His mind could not focus enough on the words. Instead, he stole glances at his bride, taking in the blonde curls on her shoulder, the white flowers in her hair. Her skirt was so big that even though they were not seating close, some of it touched his leg. The material shimmered whenever she moved. The sun shone outside and through the stained glass, it projected colours on the white dress.

After forever, the priest stopped talking and they stood up and said their vows. It was over so quickly that it surprised Aramis. He had meant every word he had said, holding Elise's hands in his. Her voice had trembled whereas his had been more confident than he would have imagined. And then they were married and he kissed her cheek, ignoring Porthos and d'Artagnan's sniggers behind him.

Elise's smile was priceless. It sobered him up. He no longer felt in pain. Who would have thought it would be so easy? Now that it was done, he realized that had been nothing to worry about. Everything was going to be fine. Unable to contain her joy, she hugged his neck tightly, earning a disapproving look from the one who had just married them.

"I love you," Aramis whispered in her ear. They stayed close until her uncle coughed politely to remind them that the mass was not over yet.

* * *

After the ceremony was over and everybody had the chance to congratulate the newly married couple, they all walked back to the Garrison, which was not far off. Elise was happily hanging on Aramis's arm. As far as he was concerned, he could not wait to sit down to feast. Athos had been right: he needed to eat; he was famished.

The cook had set the much-anticipated meal outside. Elise was surprised to see that most of the Musketeers declined the wine when it was offered to them, even Porthos. Instead, they were all drinking plenty of water. She raised an eyebrow at Constance who shook her head hopelessly. She did not need an explanation to understand how the men had spent the night.

"You see, I told you there was nothing to be nervous about," she said to her young friend.

"Doesn't he look a bit odd to you?" Elise asked, slightly cocking her head to her right, where Aramis was sitting.

"He looks like a voracious man, that's for sure. You should have seen how he was looking at you in the church. There was nothing odd about it. It is quite rare to have him look at a woman like he does with you."

It made Elise smile even more. There was not an ounce of apprehension in her at the moment, as she looked closely at the man who was now her husband. Her husband! She had a husband. She sighed, thanking God again.

"What is it?" Aramis demanded, his mouth full.

"Nothing. I was just thinking about how happy I am. And wondering if you will require that much feeding every day." He laughed, swallowing his mouthful.

" I promise I am usually less greedy. I have hardly eaten anything since yesterday and I..."

"And you are in desperate need to soak all the alcohol, aren't you?" The shock on his face changed into a sheepish look. He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.

"So you know?"

"I slept here last night. You were making so much noise I could hear it from my room. I thought it better to stay there. God knows what I would have seen otherwise."

"Nothing to fear, you have my word. We had too much to drink, that is all. Are you angry?"

"Why would I be? You were at the church, albeit not looking your best but still pretty dashing. And you married me. I am perfectly content with everything."

"I did marry you, didn't I?" It was a strange feeling, knowing his life was officially tied to hers.

"There would be no need to wear this dress if you had not."

"There will soon be no need for it indeed," Aramis whispered in her ear before kissing her cheek. A slight blush spread on Elise's face.

"Save it for tonight!" Porthos jested at them from across the table. Elise hid her face against Aramis's shoulder as his body shook with laughter.

* * *

Their friends had insisted to escort them to their new home. They made quite a loud crowd, striding in the streets as if they owned them. They had all put on rather clean uniforms and they were quite a sight. Captain Tréville was constantly shaking his head and throwing dark looks at all the jokes he could hear about his niece and her new husband. He still was not used to the idea of Aramis settling down, let alone having him join his family. From what he had seen at the church, though, from the dotted looks to the confident way he had said his vows, the captain felt better. His niece may have made a good choice after all.

Elise was holding her uncle's arm. She could hear the jokes as well, Porthos was not known to be discreet. The apprehension she had not felt since the morning was slowly creeping back. Her hold on her uncle tightened when they rounded a corner and she spotted her front door.

"I will see you tomorrow," her uncle promised, squeezing her hand. Before she could answer, she was swept off her feet by Aramis. It made her giggle and she secured her arms around his neck.

"Shall we go in, Madame?" She nodded. "If you'll excuse us, gentlemen," he added, turning around to stride confidently inside. The Musketeers' voices followed them.

"Good bye, Aramis's wife! Have a good evening, Aramis's wife! Have fun, Aramis's wife!"

Aramis shut the door with his foot, muffling d'Artagnan's endless litany. He then set Elise down, but kept his arms around her waist.

"So, how are you feeling, Aramis's wife?" he asked, grinning at her.

"Lucky. Blessed. How about you?"

"Pretty much the same." They stared at each other in silence. It had been a very long time since they had been completely alone. Now, it could happen whenever they wished for it, in their own home. They felt like strangers in an unknown place for now, finding relief and comfort in one another.

If she was being honest with herself, Elise was looking forward to her wedding night. She had often imagined how it would go, but she knew rather little about the actual proceeding. She was slightly terrified at the same time. So when the Musketeers bent his head to kiss her, she tiptoed to bury her face in his shoulder, not ready to face her fear yet.

Aramis could feel how tense her body was against his. He rubbed her back carefully, easing the tension in her shoulders.

"I will not hurt you, Elise," he whispered in her ear after long minutes. "I love you." He gently grabbed her chin so she would look at him. He kissed her lips until she finally relaxed. She had closed her eyes and when she opened them, she was staring into his darkened eyes. The night might scare her, Aramis certainly did not. She trusted him with all her heart.

Elise gave in to another kiss, sighing against his mouth. It then trailed down to her neck, ever so slowly, and she shuddered when he kissed her shoulder, his beard tickling her skin. There was this incredible and puzzling feeling she was always affected by whenever he kissed her in this spot.

The Musketeer started to walk backwards, taking her with him. She would not let go of his face, kissing him to give herself some more courage. He hit a table.

"Ah, there's a table here. It's a good thing to know. And a chair here, apparently," he added when he shifted his course to trip on another piece of furniture." The young girl laughed, the joke relieving the tension. It was safer to look at what was in front of him while walking. Aramis grabbed her hand, leading her upstairs.

He had not been in the house often, but he remembered where their bedroom was. They had paid a couple of servants to clean it while it was not inhabited and the room smelled very fresh when he opened the door.

Elise was staring at the bed. It was illuminated by the setting sun light coming from the window. Constance had told her some of the things that might happen on her wedding night, but it did not mean that she knew how to act. She did not wish to behave foolishly. Yet, she also did not want to appear like a silly country girl afraid of everything. Kissing Aramis was something she greatly enjoyed. When he joined her after closing the door, she was the one initiating the kiss.

One of his self-imposed restraints broke down and he was a little less careful. He grabbed her face, her mouth welcoming his tongue willingly. He could taste the sugar from the cake they had eaten at the Garrison earlier.

As he lay her down on the bed, her face was flushed and her breathing laboured. His hand was on her hip, pressing her against him, before it moved to her belly. It was growing hotter in the room. It seemed to Elise that they had been kissing for hours when Aramis spoke again.

"There's no need for the dress anymore." His whisper sent a shiver down her spine. His fingers were expertly playing with the edge of her corset. It came off in a matter of seconds and he moved up to slide the sleeves down. Her injured shoulder was no longer covered by the lace. Aramis knew she did not like it and thought it made her ugly. She could not have been more wrong. It showed that she was a tough survivor and that she had fought her way out of her trouble. He kissed it thoroughly, leaving no part untouched.

"Up you go, Madame." He helped her out of the big skirt and the petticoat, discarding the garments to the side until she stood in front of him in a simple white long shirt.

"I feel a little under dressed compared to you," she managed to joke. Aramis was indeed still wearing his full uniform.

"Should I take it off?"

"Please do." He smiled at her forwardness. The Elise he knew was coming back, probably a little more at ease. His cape, his jacket and his shirt went to join her dress on the floor. She took him in, looking at his naked chest. Her fingers ran over the multiple scars he had got from all his years of soldiering. This time, the soldier was the one shuddering when her hand moved lower to feel the muscles on his stomach.

She had no idea what she was doing to him. Aramis pushed her gently back on the bed, lying on top of her. He gathered the bottom of her shirt in his hand, pushing it up on her hips.

"I will be as gentle as I can, I promise. Do you trust me?"

"I love you," Elise answered.

* * *

Elise shivered in his arms. It was dark outside and the night could be quite chilly. He watched goosebumps appear on her naked flesh when he stroked her arm. She did not wake up. Instead, she pressed closer to his side, her right leg tangling itself with his own. Careful not to wake her up, he pulled the bed-cover to shield her body from the cold.

Aramis was tired as well. His heart sat satisfied in his chest, full of love and happiness. He had to pinch himself to realize everything that had happened today was real, and that his wife was sleeping soundly in his arms. She would be the last woman he would ever bed, God help him, and he had absolutely no problem with it.

Elise had changed his life for the best. Kissing the top of her head, slumber soon overtook him, his thoughts solely focused on the young woman who had given everything she had to him.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter XXIII

There was something trailing on his chest, going up and down then moving from right to left in an irregular pattern. The touch was soft and caring. It woke him up slowly. When he finally opened his eyes, the first things Aramis saw were the long blonde curls hiding Elise's face as she was looking at her fingers on his naked flesh. He raised his hand to put the curls behind her ear.

"Good morning, Aramis's wife." She smiled, bending down to give him a kiss. He pulled her closer, his warm hand resting on her lower back.

"Is this my new name?"

"I like calling you my wife. It makes it even more real."

"Wasn't last night real enough for you?"

"Of course, it was. I slept like a baby thanks to you." Stroking her back, he remembered the way she had looked when they had been truly united and she had giving herself to him. He could still feel her hands clutch his shoulders and grab his hair. The memory made him smile. "How are you feeling?"

"I am feeling extremely good. I must admit that I quite enjoyed it."

"That's the whole point of it. You'll see, it will get even better."

"Can it?" Elise had spent an incredible night after the first moments of apprehension. Being in his arms was the best feeling in the world as far as she was concerned. He had looked at her with such adoration that she could have melted in the bed.

"Definitely." Aramis pushed himself up so she was lying under him, his body pressed against hers. Elise bit her lip as he put his hands on both sides of her head, his mouth closing in on hers. "I was a bit tired yesterday, but now that I am completely rested..."

She laughed when his moustache tickled the sensitive skin of her neck before moving to trail between her naked breasts. Her laughter soon turned to soft whimpers.

* * *

A few hours later, they both managed to get out of bed and dressed. The house felt cold and impersonal at the moment, but Elise would make a point to change this as soon as she could. Earlier in the month, when they had decided to sell her parents' house, Captain Tréville had sent some of his men to Orléans to retrieve whatever they could from the mansion, a task he could not do when he was looking for his nephew. They had brought back most of Elise's clothes, much to her delight. There were books piled in many wooden chests gathered in one of the rooms. She could not wait to take them out to have her own library. They were pieces of her old life so it was comforting to have them in Paris. Wandering around the house, she finally sat down on a sofa near an empty fireplace.

"It will keep me busy for some time, turning this into a warm home."

"I remember this couch," Aramis stated, securing his braces on his shoulders. He opened the nearest window, letting some air in.

"You should. I was lying on it when you've intoxicated me for the first time."

"A necessary evil. We'll have to make new memories on it to help you forget this first impression." He grinned broadly at her. There was so much peace in his heart right now that Aramis could not see how anything could go wrong in his world ever again. His life had changed so much in the past year that he was actually quite amazed it had turned out so well in the end. "I should report for duty. I fear that wedding you does not grant me a day off."

"My uncle would not be angry with you if you arrived a bit late."

"You may be right, but he would probably assign me to the stables for weeks as a punishment. It is not something I am particularly looking forward to."

Elise laughed when he wrinkled his nose with disgust. She stood up and went to embrace him, tiptoeing to reach his cheek.

"You better get going then. I will be here when you come back." She watched him put on his uniform, securing his sword and his pistols on his hips. He put his hat on his head, smiling back at her.

"How do I look?"

"Like I expect my Musketeer husband to look like: incredibly handsome."

"Excellent!" Aramis tipped his hat at her. "Madame."Her laughter followed him as he opened the front door to leave. She looked around her wondering if she would spend the rest of her day, daydreaming about her wedding night or getting to work. Sighing, she opened the closest chest to inspect what was inside.

* * *

Before going to see Captain Tréville, Aramis made a detour by the stables to check on his horse. He had been neglecting the animal lately. The horse neighed when it recognized its rider. The Musketeer grabbed some rye in a nearby bucket, offering it in his open palm.

"There, there, my friend. We'll get you back on the road soon enough, do not worry. Aren't you a beautiful thing?" he asked out loud, stroking the horse's side.

"Does you wife know you pay this sort of compliment to your mount?" Athos was leaning against the doorway.

"Any exciting development since I've been gone?" His friend rolled his eyes.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news but the Garrison does not revolve around you."

"That's a shame."

"Although Porthos complained that you were not here to share his breakfast. But that was two hours ago. He may have moved on now."

"Should we go find out?"

"He's with Tréville. The King has deemed the weather decent enough to go on a hunting party again. We are all going with him. It seems he remembers how great a shooter you are."

They joined their companions in the Captain's office.

"You have finally made it out of bed, my friend!" Porthos exclaimed, neglecting to listen to what his commanding officer was saying to go slap Aramis's shoulder.

"Porthos, I was talking!"

"Of course, Captain. Please go on. So, how was it?" he asked, loud enough for all of them to hear.

"Porthos! It is hardly the time or the place!"

"Right. My apologies." Tréville shot him a dark look. The imbecile had managed to make him think of his niece and what had necessary happened between her and the Musketeer who had joined them. He shook his head, wishing for the thought to go away.

"As I was saying...The King intends to take up residence in Versailles for quite some time and it looks like the Queen has decided to join him. So I will need all of you to look after the royal family. His majesty has requested you to join him personally, Aramis. He said you bring him luck. Whatever it means."

The Musketeer bowed his head, acknowledging the unspoken order. The Dauphin would have to come with his mother. There would be hunting as well. He would enjoy such an assignment. It bothered him a little to leave Elise in Paris so soon after their wedding, but he had warned her it might happen. She would have Constance to keep her company.

"When are we leaving?"

"At the end of the week."

When they had finished discussing all the delicate details such a mission would entail, the four Musketeers were dismissed. Aramis's eyes crossed his Captain's as he left the room. The silent stare was enough to convey what they had to say to each other. It was better to keep their exchanges strictly professional.

"So...Are you going to say anything?" Porthos pressed once again.

"My Lord, you sound like you have never slept with a woman," d'Artagnan complained and Aramis could not agree more.

"Besides, I will not tell you anything. It is my wife you are referring to. Show some respect."

"Ooooh, I'm scared," Porthos joked, shaking his hands excessively. He jumped to the side to avoid the punch Aramis intended for his stomach. His friend missed and Porthos lunged to grab his arm. They ended up wrestling in the corridor until they tripped on each other's feet and fell to the floor. They rolled around, trampling their hats.

"Should we do something about it?" d'Artagnan asked Athos. The other shook his head, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

"They are merely finishing their drunken fight from two nights ago."

"I won that fight!" Porthos exclaimed before Aramis pushed his hand on his face and stopped him from talking. The Musketeer bit down on the fingers.

"Ouch! You idiot! That hurt!"

"It was the point!"

Aramis eventually managed to break free by repeatedly hitting the other's knee until he groaned out in pain. He stood up, dusting off his uniform, and watching Porthos hold his leg.

"Now, I win."

"Please, I _let _you win. Elise would never forgive me if you came back with a bloodied nose and broken ribs." They stared hard at each other for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. Aramis held out his arm to help his friend to his feet. Porthos was limping a little, comforting the other Musketeer in the idea that he had done some damage. His own hand quite hurt, though. He could see teeth marks on it.

"I hope you don't have rabies."

Porthos pushed his shoulder in response as they left for the armourer's.

* * *

Elise had had quite a busy day and she did not see it go by. There were so many things to put away, so many things to arrange around the place. She may also have lost an hour or two when she found a book she particularly cherished and ended up sitting down to read some of it. One of her new neighbours had noticed that the house was occupied once again so she had paid Elise a quick visit, mainly to introduce herself and the myriad of children hovering around her. The young girl counted at least five, but she was not certain. They would not stop moving and they looked too much alike to differentiate them.

When Elise had explained that she needed to go to the market to buy some food as there was hardly any in her kitchen, Delphine had offered to show her the way. A suggestion which was gladly accepted. So, with the children in tow, the two women had gone a few streets down to shop. Her new acquaintance marvelled at the news that Elise's husband was a Musketeer. Her own husband was a carpenter so he was often away to work on different building sites.

Even though she would have preferred to spend the first day of her married life with her husband, Elise had rather enjoyed it. She had managed to light a fire in the kitchen in order to cook some soup. The old cook at the Garrison had taught her many of his recipes throughout the months she spent there. She hoped hers would be as good as she remembered it.

It was late afternoon when Aramis came back home. He did not expect to have visitors so early, but Captain Tréville and his nephew were sitting at the table with Elise.

"Captain," he greeted his superior, taking off his hat before sitting down as well. It smelled good inside.

"Aramis."

"Uncle came to tell me that you are both leaving with the King." She looked saddened by the news.

"His Majesty does love hunting. It happens quite a lot. But we'll be back soon. You should not worry."

"I agree with you but in the meantime, I suggest that Christophe stays here with her. I do not want to leave him at the Garrison by himself and as his sister, she will keep an eye on him. Just to make sure he stays out of trouble. And she will not be by herself."

Aramis glanced at the boy on the other side of the table. Christophe did not seem so pleased with the decision, but by now, he had learned better than to talk back to his uncle so he gritted his teeth and brooded in silence. The Musketeer shared the same feeling: he was not excessively happy about Tréville's suggestion, yet, it would reassure him to know that Elise was not alone in the house.

"It makes sense. Is there a second bed in this house, though?" Tréville stared at him coldly and Aramis threw his hands in the air. "I just moved in! How can I know?"

"Yes, there is a second bed," Elise confirmed. "You will not have to sleep on the sofa and you will even be able to help me tidy the house!" she added for her brother's sake. He looked _delighted_ by the idea as he glared in her direction.

"Very well, it is settled then. Aramis, I will see you tomorrow." Captain Tréville stood up, ready to go.

"Don't you want to stay and share our meal?"

"I have important matters to settle at the Garrison. Another time, perhaps?" Aramis was glad for his superior's answer. He could not wait to be alone with Elise.

"Did you miss me?" he asked as soon as they were alone. He grabbed her by the waist, bending his head to kiss her.

"Yes, I did. And I am not at all happy to know that you will be gone in a couple of days."

"You knew it was bound to happen, Elise."

"Yes, of course, but I was hoping to enjoy time a little more time with you before you had to leave." She was attempting not to show how truly upset she was, but she failed. Aramis was starting to know her too well to ignore the expression on her face. He took her in his arms just as he had done the previous day. Elise could not help but giggle.

"We still have four long days and nights before I have to go. I will give you plenty of time to enjoy!"

"What about the soup? It will grow cold."

"Then let it be. I heard it is rather excellent that way." Aramis strode upstairs.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter XXIV

It was late July and it was a blessing to have left Paris where the heat was starting to become unbearable. In the countryside, the air was a little more breathable. The journey to Versailles had been quick. The Musketeers had been there numerous times with the King whenever he wished to hunt. However, it would be the first time the Queen actually stayed. When she had come in the past, it was only for a day. There had been building work undertaken in order to extend the small hunting lodge.

Aramis wondered how he would manage to avoid the Dauphin as much as he could in such a reduced space. The last he had seen of him was when Marguerite held him in her arms while coming out of the carriage. His arms had been swinging in front of him, there had been a big smile on his face and his hat had fallen from his head. The soldier would have reached for it if Athos had not been by his side to step on his foot.

"Remember your place," he had said between his teeth.

For the past three days, the King had left for a hunt in the morning, then had taken his lunch somewhere in the forest before getting on his horse again. The entire party had come back to the castle quite late at night. The Musketeer did not have to worry about a chance encounter with the Queen or her son. At night they slept in the wing which was still under construction. The work had stopped because His Majesty was on the grounds. Most of the doors and the windows were missing from this precarious and disorganized military barracks. On the bright side, the men were never hot at night. As long as they did not have to fight a summer storm, they would be fine.

Aramis was appointed personal guard to the King and was constantly riding by his side. The conversation was always dull when you could not disagree with your ruler. He could hardly fire either as it would not have been well appreciated if it had prevented Louis XIII from killing a deer or a boar. The King behaved like a child every time he missed a shot, always blaming the weapon. On the other hand, he did succeed in killing a boar and the company did not hear the end of it for the rest of the day.

Today did not start well. The castle was too small and the King's apartments were touching the Queen's which was not the case in Paris. The Dauphin, being a teething baby, had kept on crying and screaming all night long. His father was all but pleased with it and he was taking it on his servants and the riders. Then, his hunting gun did not work the first time they spotted a deer. The King threw it on the ground with anger. Aramis patiently dismounted to pick it up. He could not see what was wrong with it, but he was sure he did not want His Majesty to use it again. God knew what would happen if it did not deign work again.

"Your Majesty should take mine. I have cleaned it last night. It will work perfectly."

"It better," the King muttered, almost snatching it from the Musketeer's hand. The horses resumed trotting again. Aramis looked behind him, desperately looking for his friends. He spotted them at the rear of the group and sighed when he saw how they seemed to be enjoying themselves.

"On your right, your Majesty!" a beater shouted. There were two bucks galloping towards them. The King aimed and shot, touching one of them. It jerked but it did not stop. Its pace was slower, yet it was definitely going to escape.

"Finish it off!" he ordered Aramis who looked at him in surprise before aiming as well. He did not want to find out what would trigger the monarch's wrath the most: having a soldier finish off his kill, or having a soldier let the wounded animal escape.

The shot was easy. Aramis fired quickly. Then everything happened very fast. The shotgun did fire and the buck did fall to the ground: so the King's weapon had simply malfunctioned earlier. It also malfunctioned this time. When he fired, Aramis's face was covered in powder, and the noise was so great that it scared off his horse. The animal kicked out and reared up. Since he had let go of the reins to aim, Aramis could not hold on to anything and was sent to the ground. His head hit a tree root. His right foot was stuck in the stirrup and it considerably hurt when the horse started to get away to flee the noise, dragging the Musketeer behind him.

"Stop this horse! Captain Tréville! One of your Musketeers is down! What are you waiting for? Stop this horse!" The King was yelling orders to his entourage, most of the men clueless on what they were to do. In the end, d'Artagnan caught up with the distressed horse, calming it down until it stopped moving.

He hurried to help his friend. Aramis could only see a blur made of colourful spots. It hurt to even raise his head. When he touched the back of it, his fingers became sticky. Was he bleeding?

"Are you all right?"

"I will be fine," Aramis mumbled. "Help me up, will you?" d'Artagnan went to take his foot off the stirrup but the other yelled out in pain as soon as he touched it. A string of curses escaped his lips.

"I think you need a physician."

"Help me up," Aramis said, gritting his teeth. His friend obeyed although he looked deeply concerned. He cursed some more until he could hop and stand somewhat upright on his left foot. The right one hurt too much to put weight on it.

"Are you good, Aramis?" Captain Tréville asked, taking in the bloodied fingers and the way he wobbled on his legs.

"I believe he needs a physician," d'Artagnan insisted. "The ankle might be sprained."

"Nonsense. I am perfectly...ouch." Aramis had been holding on to his friend but when the younger moved away and he was left on his own, his right foot touched the ground and it became clear that hunting was over for him.

"Your Majesty? I am afraid this man must be taken care of. He is injured."

The King had dismounted as well and he had gone to check on his latest kill. The two shots were clean, and he seemed to be happy once again. He barely heard the Captain, and only realized something had happened when he noticed the crowd gathering around Aramis. Porthos was holding him up, Aramis's arm around his shoulders.

"Is Monsieur Aramis recovered from his fall? We make quite a remarkable team. More preys are awaiting us."

"I fear not, your Majesty," the Captain repeated. "He cannot put his foot down. We should bring him back to the castle."

The King covered his mouth with his handkerchief at the sight of blood. He dismissed the Captain with a slight move of the hand.

"Of course, of course. Bring him back and have my surgeon look at his wounds. I need him back on both feet as soon as possible."

"Athos, Porthos, take him back. D'Artagnan, stay close to the King. You are taking over Aramis's position for the time being."

"Must you always gather all the attention?" Porthos joked, half-dragging his friend to his own horse. The pain was beginning to be too much for the other. Perspiration was dripping in his eyes, burning them. He cursed again when he had to mount the horse.

* * *

Aramis was lying on his campbed, a bandage around his head to stop the bleeding. He had been given some medicine for the pain, but his ankle still hurt each time he moved it. His friends had had to restrain him while the physician was taking off his boot. It had been painful and it was doubtful that someone in the house had missed his shouts.

He hated himself for being so clumsy and falling off the horse. Now, he was apart from Elise _and_ he was stuck in his bed. He did not know for how long riding a horse was out of the question, but it did not look promising.

"Admit it, you wanted to show off." Porthos was sitting by his side, holding a fresh and cold new bandage for his ankle. His friend welcomed the soothing feeling when it was applied to his swollen flesh. It hurt to raise his head but he still saw that his foot was changing colour and becoming more and more purple.

"You are lucky I cannot stand up to make you shut your mouth."

"Dear Lord! What happened to you?" a shocked female voice suddenly asked. Aramis recognized it.

"Good afternoon to you, Marguerite. What brings you to us on this fine day?"

"We heard shouts so the Queen sent me to find out what was going on."

"How very nice of her. You may tell her that this Musketeer cannot stay properly on a saddle and fell head first." Porthos stood up quickly to avoid Aramis's fist.

"Shut up. It was a simple shooting incident but the King is fine and he will return with at least one dead buck."

"Very well, but what about you? Are you going to be fine?"

"I'm as solid as a rock. I'll be back on my horse in no time." He cracked a smile at her then lay down again since it hurt too much. Marguerite bowed her head before leaving to report the news to the Queen.

"She is pretty. I could see why you liked her."

"I'm married, Porthos." If his wife could be here to nurse him like she promised she would, he would have felt slightly better. The thought of having to spend the night in pain by himself in a room full of his companions was deeply annoying.

* * *

The King was not pleased to find out that his favourite Musketeer shooter could not come with him the day after. Even though his head had stopped bleeding, Aramis would not be able to ride a horse. He could barely take a few steps without tripping. He watched his friends ride off with a heavy heart.

Staying on his bed was driving him mad with boredom, though. It was all very quiet in the house, the servants had this incredible power to become completely silent if they wished to. The Musketeer drifted back to sleep after taking more medicine for the pain, and when he woke up again, the sun was high in the sky. He was also starving. If only he had a bell like the royals to summon a valet.

Very slowly and painfully, he made his way out of the room. He had to stop every few minutes to rest and catch his breath. He would _not_ faint; the others would remind him of it until he died. After a long journey, he reached the entrance of the house. The front door was closed but the French windows at the back were wide open, the curtains blowing slightly with the wind.

"Can I help you, Aramis?" a guard asked.

"I'm going to the kitchen."

"Should you be up and about with such an injury? It looks painful."

"It is," the Musketeer groaned.

"I will find someone to bring you some food. In the mean time, sit down and keep an eye on them for me, will you?"

Aramis all but collapsed in the armchair close to the windows. They opened on a marbled terrace and then on a large park with oak trees. His eyes swept over the landscape to find the people he was supposed to be watching. He spotted the white canopy with the two guards at the front. Under it, the Queen was sitting down on a fur rug, the Dauphin lying next to her. Marguerite was closed by as always, reading a book.

He knew he should not try anything. On the one hand, it was dangerous as they were not alone and on the other hand, the mere thought of taking another step was excruciating. They were so close, though.

Aramis stood up and limped outside, balancing himself with his hands on a table. The closest chair fell down with a rattle and the women looked up in his direction. Marguerite was summoned to the Queen's side before she walked up to the soldier.

"The Queen has invited you to join us. She wishes to inquire about your injury."

"I am not dressed to meet with the Queen. It would hardly be proper."

She looked at him, a bandage still around his head and a dirty shirt on his back. He was also barefoot because where was the point in wearing a sole shoe after all?

"I agree with you, yet one does not say no to his Queen. Come on." She started down the stairs only to turn around when she noticed that Aramis had a hard time following her. It had been months since he had decided to put an end to their affair. Besides, he was married now, even if the marriage was a little more than a week old. Marguerite could not be angry with him forever. Not when he seemed to be in so much pain. She held out her arm.

"I will help you. Lean on me." Aramis was surprised, but grateful for the help. He could not have covered the whole distance by himself. Once he was under the shade of the canopy, so close to his son, his spirits lifted a little.

"Your Majesty," he greeted her.

"Monsieur Aramis. You have given us quite a fright, has he not, Marguerite? How are you feeling today?"

"I'm afraid it still hurts but you honour me by having me here." He managed to smile, leaning more and more on Marguerite. He needed to sit down. "Although...one of the guards went to seek some food for me and I would not want him to desert his position for too long in order to find me."

"Of course, not. Marguerite, will you go and bring some food for Monsieur Aramis?" Aramis could not help but grin when he saw the face she made when she was given the order. Marguerite was being treated like a servant today and she did not enjoy it. After she left, Aramis forgot the rigid protocol a little.

"May I?" he asked, looking at the empty chair. The Queen took in his pained look.

"Absolutely! Would you like some water?" She stood up to pour him a glass when he nodded weakly. He drank quickly. "You look dreadful."

"I've had better days," he laughed. "How is _he_?" he asked, looking at the Dauphin still playing on the rug.

"He's been hurting as well. I am quite at a loss. The nurses give him ice to suck on whenever it is possible but I am afraid he will choke on it or it will make him sick again."

"Does he have something to chew on?"

"The nurses' fingers whenever they hold him. Or mine, but don't tell the King. He would be horrified. No, my dear, no!" the Queen exclaimed, bending down to stop her son from chewing the fur off the rug. Aramis smiled. Being in the countryside would be good for the Queen's spirits. There were jusr two nurses and Marguerite to care for the child, which was nothing compared to her entourage in Paris. She had a better chance to be a mother here. The scene in front of him was proof enough.

"I bet he chews on his blanket whenever he's in his crib."

"How come you know so much about babies?"

"When I was ten, my parents had another child and I was old enough to take care of her," Aramis confessed. There were few people who knew this story. "I rather enjoyed it actually, much to my father's despair. Unfortunately, both my mother and her passed away a year or so later. A bad fever. So when he'll be more than a year old, I will not be able to help a lot."

"I'm so sorry, Aramis. It must have been so tragic." She genuinely looked affected by the revelation.

"Anyway. He should be allowed to chew on whatever he wants, heir to the throne or not. He's a baby first. See?" Baby Louis had grabbed one of his mother's fingers and was currently dribbling on it. The Queen did not take it away, coming as close to Aramis as she could without it being suspicious. His son smiled at him, babbling. He had to resist the urge to touch him.

"Guards? I wish to go in my apartments to lie down. It is definitely too hot outside. Will you go find a nurse to bring the Dauphin inside? Aramis will watch him until one of them arrives."

"Your Majesty." He would have liked to say more, but she knew he was thanking her. Aramis secured the baby on his lap and watched the two guards escort the Queen on the lawn. She was a remarkable woman. "Now, what is new in your life, Louis?"

The child looked at him curiously. Did he recognize him? He did not seem frightened as he put his tiny hand forward to catch one of the necklaces hanging around his father's neck.

"Not much, am I right? If you must know, _I _got married last week. Yes, I did! Crazy, isn't it? I hope you can meet her one day. I think you would like her; she's quite as stubborn as your mother and if I dare say, as pretty. When she yells, though, she becomes rather scary." He made a funny face which made his son laugh. The pain in his ankle was forgotten for now. He was almost thankful for it; it had given him the opportunity to see his child again, to hold him in his arms.

* * *

Author's note: When Louis XIII was King of France, Versailles looked nothing like what we know today. It was just a modest hunting lodge that he started expanding in 1631. His son Louis XIV made the Palace the masterpiece that it is nowadays.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter XXV

For the next three days, Aramis could hardly stand up from his bed. His little excursion in the park had done more damage than he would have thought. It was driving him insane to stay indoors when he should have been in the forest, riding his horse. The Queen and Marguerite had come to pay him a visit once; it was the only distraction that happened. He was dying to be better.

Since he spent most of the day sleeping, he was hardly tired at night whereas all the others only wished to sleep after their day out. The King did not seem to be weary of hunting yet. The Musketeer always tried to make as little noise as he could when his companions were resting, but his muffled sighs were enough for Porthos to threaten to gag him if he did not stop.

The next morning, things developed and for Captain Tréville, it was the chance to get his injured Musketeer away from Versailles, its boredom and the bad atmosphere it was starting to generate. The ministers were running the country while their King was entertaining himself and one of them arrived at the house, bringing letters. There would be no hunting this morning, his Majesty being too busy learning what the current state of affairs was.

"Aramis, I have a mission for you," the Captain announced, joining the soldiers who were practising their fencing skills in the park. Aramis was lying in the grass, his hat on his face, trying to ignore the throbbing in his leg.

"Finally! What do I have to do?"

"The superintendent came here with two guards. François will stay here to take your place. You will ride back to Paris with the other to escort d'Effiat. And you _will_ remain in Paris."

"Are you sending me back?" the Musketeer complained.

"You are of no use here. You could not even protect the Queen and the Dauphin if we were under attack. I want you to rest and heal. I expect you to be completely ready for duty when we will return."

"I'm sure I could..."

"It's an order, Aramis. Now, go pack your belongings and be ready to leave in an hour." Tréville left as quickly as he had arrived.

Fortunately, the superintendent had not come to the countryside on horseback. After a few failed attempts at mounting his horse, it was decided that the Musketeer would travel in the carriage, officially to better protect its occupant if they were attacked. D'Effiat had not liked it, but when the King gave an order it had to be followed without discussion. His Majesty was growing fond of this particular Musketeer and besides, it was terrifying to imagine that he could have been the one firing the shotgun and falling from his horse. Aramis had prevented him from this inelegant misadventure so even though the King said nothing, he was grateful.

Aramis spent most of the journey suffering in silence. He would be relieved when he would be back home. Tréville's decision may have upset him at first, it also meant he would be able to spend time with Elise and it somewhat made the pain a little more bearable.

They left the minister at his house, which meant that they also left the carriage there. Lucas, the other Musketeer, offered to help his companion walk back to his own lodgings. Aramis had not taken any medicine since morning and the pain was beginning to oppress him. After what seemed like forever spent hopping and stopping every few meters, they finally reached his front door.

"Surprise," he said, smiling weakly and leaning against the door frame when Elise opened the door.

"My God! What happened to you? Were you attacked?"

"Not at all. You have nothing to worry about. But I need to sit down." She opened the door wider so that Lucas could help him inside. They greeted Constance who was there as well. She quickly stood up from her chair to let Aramis collapse in it. "Thank you, Lucas."

"Don't mention it. Ladies." He tapped his hat then left. Aramis propped his injured leg on another chair. His breathing was heavy and he groaned in pain. Elise was hovering over him, looking for other wounds. She looked relieved to find none too frightening, but she was still concerned. His forehead was glistening with sweat.

"Tell me what happened."

"I fell from my horse because of a malfunctioning hunting gun. My ankle is sprained."

"I will find you cold bandages to lessen the pain." Constance disappeared in the kitchen and Elise kissed her husband's forehead as he lay his head against her waist. It was comforting to hold her close.

"You should not have walked."

"I'll take it over riding. Believe me."

"When did it happen?"

"What's today? Friday? Four days ago. Your uncle must have grown tired of me so he sent me back to rest."

"He did well. I'll take care of you." Aramis smiled against her dress. He had missed her, especially since his days had not been occupied by the hunt. Her smell was reassuring.

"It is always a pleasure to have you as my nurse."

Elise smiled before bending her head to kiss his lips. She had terribly missed him this past week and although she would have wished for better circumstances, she was ecstatic to have him in Paris again. She would have liked to continue kissing, but she was aware that Constance was nearby and that her brother could walk on them at any time. Aramis was not having it, though, and when she made to stop, he pushed stronger against her mouth. She giggled when he sat her down on his valid leg. It still hurt a little and he winced.

"Did I hurt you?" He shook his head.

"I've missed you," he said, kissing her neck.

"Jesus Christ, you could at least wait until I am gone!" Constance exclaimed, coming back with a stock of dripping bandages in her hands. Aramis laughed and Elise all but jumped to her feet, rather embarrassed to have been caught. She took one of the bandages and he sighed when she put it on his ankle. It felt better.

If Aramis had thought he would be able to move around the house as he pleased, he was greatly mistaken. Elise could be a rather scary nurse and when she gave him orders, he knew better than to challenge them twice. Later that day, he tried to walk upstairs by himself; he could do it, holding on to the walls and going slowly. She was having none of it, and Christophe had to help him up. None of the men was happy about it, but they feared the consequences.

"Are you going to help me undress as well?" Aramis asked the boy sarcastically when he sat him down on the bed.

"I hope not. My sister may be a dragon in disguise, I would rather jump out of the window than take off your clothes."

"You and me both, you and me both. Listen, if you want to go back to the Garrison now that I am here, you can." The boy looked at him, gauging the other's face to decide if he was being played or not. The Musketeer seemed serious.

"I'll think about it. Thank you," he eventually said on his way out.

"No, thank you. For staying here and looking after your sister." Christophe nodded. Their exchanges had always been short and practical. Aramis still resented him for what he had done, although the boy's attitude was slowly improving. The mere fact that he had just said "thank you" was proof enough. They both cared about Elise and it bound them together, whether they liked it or not. One of these days, Aramis would have to sit him down to have a proper conversation.

When he was alone, Aramis took off his shirt easily. Taking off his breeches was another matter. He shook his left leg only to end up sliding to the floor helplessly. He cursed.

"What am I hearing?" Elise chastised, joining him in their bedroom. She could hardly keep on a straight face when she saw him on the floor, exasperation in his eyes.

"Should you be making fun of your patient?"

"Absolutely not. You are right, what kind of woman takes advantages of her weakened husband?" There was such a big grin on her face, though. She held out her arm to help him up. No matter how much his ankle hurt, Aramis would always be stronger than her: he pulled her to him until she was sitting by his side.

"A very, very mean woman indeed." He kissed her between each word, his fingers toying with her sleeve. Elise could not deny that she would enjoy what he had in mind, she could not forget his current state.

"I don't think it would be very wise..."

"Of course it would. It's the best medicine I know!" She put her arms around his neck as he lay her down on the floor.

With nothing to do but enjoy his wife's company and care, Aramis started feeling better rather quickly. Christophe had taken his offer to go back to the Garrison even if he came back every day to show that he was not getting in any sort of trouble. He helped around the house, moving pieces of furniture they way his sister wanted it, fixing paintings on the walls. He even talked to Aramis a little. You could only spend so much time in the same house before it became awkward if you avoided one another constantly.

After three weeks of convalescence, the Musketeers could put his foot on the floor for a few minutes before it started to hurt. He made his way around the house, limping. He was confident he would be able to ride again soon.

There had been a summer storm the previous night and the air was still heavy with the scent of rain. Everybody enjoyed the slight drop in temperature. Elise wanted to have a vegetable patch in the small green space behind their house. One thing Aramis had learned quite fast was that whatever his wife wished for in the house, she had very valid arguments to obtain it. So he found Christophe turning over the wet dirt.

"I knew Elise was stubborn but someone should have told me how much she really was before I agreed to marry her." The younger boy looked up, smirking.

"That's nothing. You should have seen how she would con Father. Our mother was the only one who stood up to her. Probably because she was as stubborn."

"But that's the reason why we love her, is it not? She knows what she wants."

"Certainly. You will not have a boring life, if I dare say so." He resumed his work. They never talked much and he did not expect Aramis to continue the conversation.

"What about you, though? What kind of life do you want to have?" he asked. His brother-in-law stared at him. The older man was leaning in the doorway, watching him intently.

"I don't know. I don't think I have much of a say in the matter, anyway. My uncle does not seem ready to let me go."

"You have given him good reasons to act like this."

"I know, but I was _so_ angry! I should have been there to protect my family that day. It should not have been you protecting Elise. It should have been me."

"A fifteen-year old against six bandits? Oh yes, I'm sure you would have won that fight."

"Then I would have perished fighting. It would be better than having to atone in _that_ way. I look like a peasant," he spat. Aramis limped closer. He was so much taller and broader. He looked at him with the same fury he had in his eyes the first night he'd met Christophe.

"How can you say things like this? Your sister is still here and she needs you! She needs her brother!"

"Does she, really? You're here now."

"Of course, she does. She loves you! I admit I have a hard time understanding why, but you're her family and I will not let you wish you had left her on her own. She does not deserve it!"

"I am aware! Calm down, will you?" Aramis was seething, his fists balled on his sides. It would not do to start a fight. Besides, he was not sure he would be able to win it. "I did not mean it like that. I could never leave her. She often looks troubled and it is all my fault. I have taken our parents from her, don't you think I hate myself enough for it?"

"Do you? _That_ would be quite a change, indeed."

"Well, it's the truth. I despise everything that I have been asked to do every since I was brought to Paris. I wish I had not done the things I did. I would not be knee deep in dirt if I had less gambled."

"You do not want me to tell you what punishment you would have received if I was the one in charge."

"I doubt it can be harsher than the beating d'Artagnan gave me." Aramis quite remembered that day when the boy was polishing the soldiers' boots. Even him had almost felt sorry for Elise's brother, obligated to do so in the courtyard where everyone could see him. There had been some comments from the boy about it being inferior to him, and being a job for slaves and orphans. Much to his misfortune, d'Artagnan was passing by at the same moment. He had not liked what he heard. Trying to get Christophe to apologize was an impossible task so he ended up punching him until the youngest surrendered.

"Trust me, if I had been the one punching you, you would have been out for a week."

"I would like to see you try," Christophe challenged. Aramis's fist crushed his nose a second later. He felt better when he heard the painful crack of broken bones. His brother-in-law doubled over, clutching his face, blood running through his fingers. He fought the urge to fight back. They had always known it would happen at some point.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Much," Aramis replied, shaking his sore hand.

"Good. Are we even now?"

"I believe so." The Musketeer shook the hand extended toward him after a moment of thinking. "Get back to digging." And he went back inside.

Elise looked at them suspiciously when she saw the state of her brother's face, but the men did not seem to be angry at each other. By now, she knew better than to ask that sort of questions to them since she would certainly get no answer. So she simply shook her head and resumed her cooking.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter XXVI

Aramis rejoiced in the sight in front of him. His wife was straddling his hips, her hair so long it almost covered her naked breasts. She was playing with his necklaces, using them to trace patterns on his chest. He would shudder every few seconds, a reaction that Elise secretly enjoyed. She liked knowing the effect she could have on him. He closed his eyes, rubbing her bare arms then moving to her waist. She giggled when his fingers tickled her. Aramis' arms circled her waist, pulling her on top of him.

"This weakness is the reason why I will _always_ win." His warm breath washed over her face. She pushed away the dark locks of hair stuck on his sweaty forehead.

"You call this a victory? Simply because you are stronger and I am ticklish? Please, what I did to you not even five minutes ago? _That_ was a victory." She grinned, her lips hovering over his, never quite touching them. She pulled away every time he raised his head to kiss her mouth.

"Elise..."

"Say it. Say I win. Say it."

"You win." He grabbed her face to kiss her before turning them over so he was the one on top. He got a shooting pain in his ankle but ignored it. Elise was breathing heavily when he finally let go. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were shining. "You have learnt a few things since we've been married, haven't you?"

"I've had a very good instructor." She smiled, her arms twined around his neck and reaching up for his lips once again.

Suddenly, there was a loud banging on the front door downstairs. Aramis groaned, burying his head in the pillow.

"Is it your brother? So early? Since when does he arrive before lunch time?"

"He never said he would visit today. We are supposed to go to the market together tomorrow. Besides, I think you scared him off."

"He'll need more than a punch to be scared away, trust me."

"Have you seen his face? You broke his nose!"

"He deserved it. If you must know, he basically asked for it!"

Elise opened her mouth again, but the banging on the door resumed, followed by shouts beneath their window.

"Aramis? Are you here? Aramis? Wake up!" d'Artagnan.

"Give your wife a rest and come open this door!" Porthos.

"You sound like two fishwives. They may simply not be at home." Athos.

The Musketeer rolled over, throwing the blanket at the foot of the bed. He walked to the window, opened it wide and leaned outside. The sun blinded him. It may actually be almost close to lunch time. His three friends looked up at him.

"What are you trying to do? Start a riot?"

"He's alive! Get down here and open the door to the dear friends you missed so much." Aramis muttered back to wait five minutes and closed the window loudly. Elise was still lying in bed, stretching. He could see her curves under the sheet and the only thing he wished for was to ignore the three others and join her. Instead, he grabbed his clothes and started to dress. He tried to put on his right boot but gave up.

"I'll go see what they want. Take your time to dress." He went to give her one last long kiss then went downstairs. The banging had started again.

"You need to learn patience," he said, opening the door suddenly, Porthos almost losing his balance as he had been leaning against it.

"What took you so long?" Porthos complained, not waiting for an invitation to stride in the house.

"_Who_ took you so long?" d'Artagnan joked.

"Please, have a seat," Aramis offered, his voice full of sarcasm. The others had not waited for him to say so and they had all gathered at the table, looking at their surroundings. "When did you come back?"

"Last night. They wanted to come see you at once, but I thought it best to wait until morning," Athos said.

"Well, aren't you merciful! Let me finish to get dressed and I will come with you to the Garrison."

"We are in no hurry. What kind of host are you? Not even a minute in your house that you already want to throw us out? Where's the wine?" Athos rolled his eyes at Porthos.

All things considered, a glass of wine could not hurt Aramis either, as long as he ate something with it. Alcohol was rather effective when it came to numb the pain he sometimes still felt in his leg. He half-walked, half-limped to the kitchen to gather glasses, a bottle of wine and some bread they had made the day before.

"Move," he ordered Porthos after everything was set on the table. His friend's legs were propped on a second chair, the one he intended to sit in.

"How is your ankle?"

"It's getting better. It still hurts when I try to put my boot on, but I expect this to come back to normal as well in a few days. I am growing tired of staying within these walls."

"Are you saying that the company leaves room for improvement?"

"The company can hear you and she would like it very much if you did not talk behind her back." Elise appeared at the bottom of the stairs, still doing her hair. Porthos stood up at once to give her a big hug. Her feet left the floor and she laughed.

"Please do not break me. Gentlemen," she greeted the two others, happy to see them again. She had not seen them since her wedding day and although Aramis was all the distraction she required, it was nice to see the Musketeers again. She often told her husband that she missed the busy life of the Garrison. She looked around to find a seat of her own, but there was none. Aramis caught her arm and sat her down on his lap. It triggered a new series of jests from the other soldiers.

They all made a joyous mess and it was the more lively the house had been since they had moved in. Elise enjoyed it very much. She could see that even if Aramis and his friends were constantly teasing each other, it was their way to show that they cared and they had missed one another in the past month.

* * *

It was another week before Aramis could walk properly without limping. He was glad to be finally able to resume his duty. It did not suit him to be idle for so long, even though Elise had been the best nurse he could ask for. It felt good to cross swords with d'Artagnan again how ever slowly they moved. Being back on his horse was even better. Whenever he would see Christophe in the barracks, their exchanges were always cordial. Captain Tréville did inquire about his nephew's nose, but he was merely told by both parties that it was a family matter between two brothers-in-law. The young boy seemed to show even more respect for the Musketeer after the small talk they had.

The Palace was busy in this month of September. Both the King and the Queen's birthdays were drawing near. They would both turn thirty and it was as good a pretext as anything to throw the biggest party the city had ever seen. There was more people on the grounds than usual, people who were strangers to the Louvres and keeping security tight was paramount. As always, his Majesty had asked for his Musketeers to always be close to him. They were spending so much time by his side that Aramis was positive he could explain to anyone the programme of the festivities down to the smallest detail.

He was keeping watch in the gardens while the King was examining the new statues delivered the previous day when there were footsteps behind him in the alley. He noticed the Queen and her ladies-in-waiting walking in his direction, and bowed respectfully.

"Monsieur Aramis! I see you are better. It is such a relief. You were deeply missed by the King in Versailles." Her eyes told him he was missed by the Queen as well.

"I thank you for your concern, your Majesty."

"I have a mission for you, Sir. You will make sure to deliver this letter to your wife." She motioned with her hand and one of the ladies handed him a sealed piece of paper. He put it in one his pockets. "I wish to congratulate her on your recent marriage."

"Her Majesty is too good." He bowed again as she resumed her walking, passing in front of him without another glance. He hated it when they had to behave like complete strangers and have short, impersonal conversations.

* * *

Later that night, he was smiling broadly when he handed the royal letter to Elise. He could not wait for her reaction. The last time she had been at the Palace, she was mourning, all dressed in black and very nervous. He remembered the way she had not let go of his hand and how she had been terrified to sit down with the Queen. A lot had changed since and Aramis doubted that she would be as nervous.

"What is it?"

"Read it." She unsealed it, looking at its content quickly. She gasped before looking at Aramis, wide-eyed. "Again? The Queen wants to see me _again_?" He laughed at her face, taking her in his arms.

"If I recall correctly, she said you had quite an interesting conversation. I believe she wants to know you more since you've become so important for me."

"But...what if I make a mistake? What if I say something that could betray you?"

"I've never told her that you know so you should not worry. It will go perfectly well. The only thing you should worry about is what dress you are going to wear. Isn't that what women worry the most about?"

Elise swatted his arm with the piece of paper then hugged him close.

"Thank you," she whispered in his ear. He was rubbing her back just the way she liked it.

"What for?"

"Being you. I love you." She kissed his cheek tenderly. They never ate supper that night.

* * *

Author's note: Louis XIII was born on September 27th, 1601. Anne d'Autriche was born on September 22nd, 1601.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter XXVII

A few days later, Elise was escorted to the Palace by her husband. She looked at the place differently than the last time she had come. For one, it was not raining and the gardens looked so much brighter and more beautiful with all the flowers. There were people everywhere, busy putting the final touches so that everything would be ready for the start of the festivities, the following day.

Even though she was a bit unsettled and did not know what she would tell the Queen, witnessing all this agitation was strangely reassuring. Aramis holding her arm was comforting as well. He walked around as if he owned the place, saluting most of the guards, except those who had a grudge against him and Porthos. He swore he had _no_ idea why. Elise gave him a suspicious look but she was not sure she wanted to know more.

It seemed to her that they walked in the gardens for a very long time before they finally spotted the King, the Queen and their entourage near a rose bed.

"You did not tell me I would meet the King, too!" Elise exclaimed, feeling suddenly a lot more nervous.

"Everything will be fine, don't worry. I'm always by your side." He gave her a smile and a squeeze of the hand.

The King was in a deep conversation with one of the party organizers. He was showing him some documents while the Queen was absent-mindedly flipping through a book. D'Artagnan looked bored out of his mind, standing at the King's side. He winked when he saw his friends approach. Her Majesty seemed delighted by their arrival and Aramis had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at her.

"Your Majesty," he said when they were in front of the royals. He bowed his head and Elise curtsied. She had spent the last few days practising the move so she needed no help rising up this time. The King lost interest in the sketch he was examining.

"Monsieur Aramis!" the King greeted them, clasping his hands. He was in a good mood today. His eyes drifted from the Musketeer to the young woman standing by his side. "May we have the honour to know who this fine lady is?"

"Allow me to introduce Madame d'Herblay, my wife." Elise curtsied again. It was the first time her new name had been used and it felt strange, especially to be called "Madame" in public. She kept her eyes down, not daring to look at the monarch for fear that she would stare too much.

"What a lovely girl! Monsieur Aramis knows how to choose his women, does he not?" the King asked around, and all the courtiers present felt obligated to laugh quietly at the joke. Even Aramis had to smile, even though he hated the comment.

"To what do we owe your presence here, my dear?"

"I requested her presence. You may remember that she is Captain Tréville's niece. After what her family has been through, I wished to inquire after her."

"The Queen is always fond of her most loyal subjects. Since you are here, Sir, you shall come to the armourer's with us. We wish to entertain ourselves." The King stood up from his chair, all the guards ready to accompany him. Elise stiffened a little; she had hoped Aramis would stay with her during the entire audience. Instead, he started to follow his Majesty after he reassured her that he would meet with her again later.

"Elise, will you come with me? I desire to go for a walk." The Queen stood up after a few minutes of silence. All the ladies-in-waiting started to imitate her until she put a stop to it. "You may all remain here and continue your work. D'Artagnan will make a sufficient escort."

The two women walked in comfortable silence, the Musketeer far enough behind them to give them some privacy and still close if they needed assistance. Elise did not know what to do or what to say. The Queen greatly intimidated her, which was not something that happened often.

"Tell me, Elise. Is being married to a Musketeer what you expected?" The girl marvelled at the fact that her royal companion remembered her name. She should not have been surprised, though.

"Absolutely, your Majesty. Although his injuries frightened me a little at first."

"Your husband indeed scared us this summer. He looks much better now so I guess we must thank you for taking such good care of our soldier." The Queen smiled at her kindly. "Are you finding your new life in Paris fulfilling?"

"Oh yes. It is much different from Orléans, but I am quite entertained and there is hardly a dull day."

"You are lucky then. I wonder... will you join us to celebrate my birthday?"

Elise was taken aback by the request. She would have never imagined it in her wildest dreams. When she thought of the week to follow, she always believed that Aramis would tell her all the wonders that had happened, but she did not think she would be asked to attend. It took a lot of willpower not to stare at the Queen. It seemed to fail since she laughed quietly when she saw the look of bewilderment on the younger girl's face.

"The King and I are very fond of Aramis so it only seems fair to reward him. It will be my wedding present."

"Your Majesty honours me. I am speechless," Elise confessed.

"It is settled then. I will arrange for an invitation to be sent to you."

The Queen liked this girl and she could see what had seduced the Musketeer. She may be nervous, yet she sounded lively and well-spirited. They kept on walking, Elise being asked more about her life and how she spent her days. She could not have thought talking to her Queen would be so easy. She tried not to look at her differently, given that she knew dangerous secrets, but her resolve was put to the test a moment later. They heard movement coming from an alley on their right, and d'Artagnan ran past them, apologizing and going to see if there was any danger.

When he returned, he was simply walking in front of Marguerite who was pushing a baby pram. Elise took a sharp breath, a sound that the Queen noticed. Keeping a straight face, she walked up to her son, gazing fondly at the baby. Elise hovered a few steps back until she was invited to come closer. She peered inside the pram carefully, wondering how someone paid their respects to such a small prince.

Baby Louis looked like he enjoyed the attention he was getting from his mother and her companion. He babbled endlessly, making bubbles which went highly against the royal protocol. It made d'Artagnan laugh in spite of himself. The baby laughed in return.

"Papa." The Dauphin had been starting to say a few words lately, and any man he saw was "Papa" for him. If only the King spent more time with his heir, the child would be able to identify the person who could pretend to the title.

"No, my dear. This is not your father. This is Monsieur d'Artagnan. He is here to protect you. Marguerite." By the simple mention of her name, the governess knew she had to take the baby in her arms. Elise stared at the woman when she heard her name. So this was the infamous Marguerite Aramis had been involved with. She may come from an aristocratic family, the young girl was satisfied to see that she was considerably less pretty than her. Marguerite put the heir in the arms of his mother.

"Mama." There was no mistake this time. Elise was amazed by all the love glowing from the Queen's face as she held her son. He was lucky to have such a dotting mother.

Then, he turned his head to look at her and she could not help but gasp. The little eyes studying her were the perfect reproduction of...his father's. The already unruly hair, the brown eyes, even the nose...He was the spitting image of...Aramis. How could the others not see it? How could they be oblivious to such an obvious fact?

Elise composed her face quickly, hoping that nobody had seen how shocked she was. Her fears were renewed once more. If she could spot the resemblance, it was only a matter of time before others followed suit.

"Your son looks handsome, your Majesty. He will grow to be quite strong." To prove her point, Louis grabbed one of his mother's earrings, tucking on it so strongly that her ear started to turn red. She quickly handed him back to his governess.

They parted ways with the Dauphin to resume their walk. The Queen had seen her companion's reaction and she had to do something about it. Bending her head slightly, she made sure that the Musketeer was far away enough behind them not to eavesdrop.

"You know your husband too well, Madame."

"I am sorry your Majesty. My reaction was disproportionate."

"Hardly so. Can I trust you, Elise?" There was an anguish edge to her voice that she could not control. She was all to aware that unfortunately, the heir was growing up looking more like his father than his mother, which could put all of them in jeopardy. She could only hope that wearing rich noble garments and tying his hair back with satin ribbons would make him look more royal than soldier when Louis would be older.

"I've been keeping Aramis' secret for some months and you must believe me when I say that there is nothing more important to me than his safety and incidentally yours. Your Majesty," she added quickly. The Queen stared at her coldly. Had she spoken disrespectfully?

"You've known."

"Please do not blame him for it. I am sure he would have said nothing if he had not been compelled to. I saw what was inside the locket. I can promise your Majesty I will say_ nothing_."

Queen Anne stopped walking, Elise doing the same. Soft sounds indicated that d'Artagnan was still advancing towards them. His Queen held out her hand and he retreated, silently apologizing. The two women stared at each other for a long time. This was a matter of life or death for both of them as well as for the boys they cared about; Elise did not feel like she was looking at her Queen. She was looking at a fellow lady overwhelmed by the same trouble as she was.

The Queen grabbed Elise's hands, holding them tight.

"I believe you. There is much at stake for you now. I attempt to keep Aramis as far away from the Dauphin during daytime for fear that if they are seen together too often, people may react like you did. It would be a disaster. I cannot...I will not put my son in danger. If we should ever talk again and I hope we do, we will not make mention of it. Although...I will always be grateful to you, for keeping my secret, for your discretion and for protecting Aramis like you do." The last words were said in a soft tone.

"Yes, your Majesty."

"Good. Monsieur d'Artagnan! Lead us to the King."

* * *

Elise was quiet on the way back from the Palace. There was a lot on her mind. Even if she had tried to make peace with Aramis' past actions, seeing the Dauphin (seeing his _son_) was too much. She felt like crying. Aramis was asking her questions but she barely answered them. She was in no mood to talk. When he told her about the King's anger at the gunsmith, she hardly sympathized with him. The Musketeer could clearly see that there was something troubling her, but she would not reply when he inquired about it.

His friends came in the evening so they would go to a tavern together. He never asked her permission, why would he? Usually she was bothered by it. Tonight, though, she was glad he was not in the house with her. She could not have put up with making conversation. Did she even want him to know she had met the heir? Elise was not sure of the answer herself.

She went to bed with a heavy heart. Yet, thoughts kept swirling in her mind, preventing her from falling asleep. Aramis found her wide awake when he came back.

"Are you feeling well, Elise?" He sounded very concerned. There was a simple candle lit in the bedchamber and as it illuminated her face, he could see that she had been crying. He sat down next to her. As he made to dry her tears, she turned her head.

"What is wrong? Did something happen today? Did something happen with the Queen?"

Elise glared at him. She knew she wanted to talk to him now. She also knew that she was furious with him once again. At a loss about how to express her feelings, she stood up from the bed, crossing her arms and facing away from him.

"This is all your fault!" She ended up saying after some time.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter XXVIII

_"__This is all your fault!"_

Aramis was confused. He did not understand what was wrong with his wife. She had not been herself since they'd come back from the Louvres, but she would not say anything to him. Now she was accusing him?

"What did I do? Is it because I left to go with the King? Elise... you know I love you, but...I am a Musketeer and when I am given orders, I always obey."

She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. If only she would look at him, it might make things easier.

"It has nothing to do with the King. Well...it could but it has nothing to do with what you did today."

"I don't understand." Elise eventually turned around, and there was so much fury in her eyes, he was afraid for a second.

"I saw the Dauphin. I. Saw. The. Dauphin," she spat the words, pushing against his chest. She felt _so_ angry at him. Aramis took the hits until she started to push too hard and he feared she would hurt herself. He grabbed her wrists gently, holding her close to him. She fought him for a few seconds, but when it was clear that he was not letting her go she stopped.

"He looks just like you, Aramis. I looked at him and it was as if I was looking at you. He's you. I'm terrified of what is going to happen. I see it, the Queen sees it. Others will do."

"You know me like nobody else does, Elise. You saw the resemblance because you've been spending a lot of time with me. You must understand that when I'm on duty at the Court, I am like a statue to the courtiers and the aristocrats. They don't see me, they look through me. I know you are worried, but I promise you nothing will befall you."

"It is not my future that terrifies me. It's yours." Her voice was quaking, as was her whole body. Aramis hugged her, rubbing her back to calm her down. "I don't want you to die."

"Oh, Elise...Why would I die?"

"Because if the King finds out..."

"Look at me." He grabbed her chin so she would look up. Her eyes were glistening with tears, whether they were of anger or sadness, he could not say. "If one day, I have even the slightest suspicion that someone may say something, we will be out of Paris and out of the country in a matter of hours. I will always be by your side to protect you. I promise. Do you hear me? I promise, and if I have to make this promise every day, I will."

The Musketeer kissed her cheeks, catching the tears with his lips as they were running down. He kissed her mouth for a long time, somewhat reassured when she did not push him away. Instead, her hands were clutching his arms. It felt like she was hanging on for dear life.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, their lips still touching ever so slightly. Elise put her arms around his neck.

"I'm still angry. I'll never understand how you could put yourself, and the country, at such risk." Aramis had no answer to that. There was no point in discussing the past. She would never understand his motivations and he did not intend to waste time trying to make her see his side of the story. It was enough that she supported him in the present day.

"But are you feeling better now?"

"Yes...I think so. I need you and I never want to be apart from you." He could sense the despair in her voice. Even though there was no doubt she enjoyed being married to him, and being in Paris, he sometimes almost forgot that she lost both her parents less than six months ago. She was attacked and hurt, and in many ways, she was still very weak. She greatly needed him.

He carried her to the bed, lying her down gently. Elise was still clinging to his arms, looking at him as he ran his fingers through her hair. Aramis kissed every inch of her face, her neck and her shoulders until she sighed. It was a sigh he knew all too well.

He made love to her in the slowest way possible that night. It was pure passion and torture at the same time and every single part of her body felt on fire. Her satisfied moan when he rested his head on her belly later on and her hand stroking his face set the world back in order. They would be fine. Yes, there would be times when it would be more complicated and Elise would hate him for the Dauphin, but in the end, as long as they had each other, they would be fine.

* * *

A royal invitation arrived for Elise _and_ Aramis the following afternoon. The Musketeer was delighted to see that he would not have to be on duty for the entire length of the festivities. He would be a guest for at least one day. It was a good distraction for Elise as well. Aramis did not want to wake her up when he left the house for the Garrison and when she finally opened her eyes, it was midday. The events of the previous day had consumed much of her energy. Finding an outfit to wear for the Queen's birthday occupied most of her time.

Constance's was too happy to help her friend and provide good advice. They enjoyed choosing the fabric and the shade of what would become a ballgown. The seamstresses working with Mr Bonacieux were quite efficient so the garment was ready in a couple of days. Aramis had told her many tales about the events taking place at the Palace every night when he came home. Elise could not wait to witness it by herself.

"Aren't you excited about tonight!" Aramis laughed when she all but stumbled down the stairs in her new gown.

"Aren't you?"

"Oh well, I spend almost more time over there than here anyway...," he sounded so blasé until he laughed some more when her face fell. "I'm joking, Elise! I cannot wait to spend the evening enjoying myself while Porthos will have to watch us."

"Will there be dancing?"

"It's called 'a ball', my love. I think it means dancing will have to be involved at some point." Her grin was priceless. He had taken to calling her "love" when they were alone, and she must admit that it was a sweet improvement.

"Will _we_ dance?"

"Do you want to dance?"

"Yes. It feels like I have not done so in such a long time."

"Then we will." A bigger smile and a kiss on the cheek showed that she was satisfied by his answer.

* * *

It had to be the best night of Elise's life. She did not know where to look. There were lights everywhere in the gardens: candles floating on water in the fountains, lanterns hanging from the trees, candlesticks on the statues. Her eyes could not stop moving from one guest to the other as she marveled about the dresses and the jewellery, and the way the ladies wore their hair.

To Aramis, she was the most beautiful in her blue gown. He especially liked the sleeves: they still covered most of her shoulders, but by some miracle, Constance had convinced his wife to make them less bigger than before and he could see her scar. Elise complained about it, yet she was beginning to accept it.

The Queen was radiant as always, clearly enjoying her birthday celebration. Their eyes crossed once when she arrived with the King. There was no sign to acknowledge that she had seen him, but it had been the same for the past days. Sometimes he wondered what had truly happened between her and Elise to lead to him being ignored in this way. Tonight was not the night to bother too much, though.

Elise was inexhaustible but after dancing for a long time, he requested a moment to rest. His ankle was starting to throb and he did not wish to push his luck. Instead, he retreated to a darker corner of the park where Porthos was keeping watch.

"How very nice of you to remember your old friend."

"Are you brooding because you did not receive an invitation?"

"What invitation? I do not need an invitation. I am attending every single event. As a statue." He rolled his eyes, stretching his limbs.

"A very convincing statue. I doubt anyone has noticed you were here."

"At least one of us is having fun," Porthos stated, pointing at Elise who was in deep conversation with another young woman she had been introduced to earlier. They were laughing as if they had known each other for years.

"I am quite enjoying myself, too, if you must know."

"You seemed to, yes. Your dancing is quite...entertaining," he smirked at Aramis.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, merely that you are a...remarkable dancer."

"Well, then, you should try it someday. The ladies quite like it when they can watch a dashing young man in a uniform dance."

"I hope you are not referring to yourself when you say 'dashing.'" Aramis punched his shoulder.

"Children, behave yourselves," Athos' dry voice said. He had appeared out of nowhere, standing with his arms crossed next to Aramis. "Is everything fine, here, Porthos?"

"It's a rather quiet night, if you forget the racket these musicians are making. Where is d'Artagnan?"

"The last I've seen of him he was attempting to fight off a swarm of courtesans by the fountain." The older Musketeer seemed to find this inconvenience rather entertaining.

"Do not tell me nobody has tried to lure _you_ into their bed yet!" Aramis exclaimed, a hand on his heart as if he was truly shocked. Athos stared at him hard.

"I do not drink and I do not waste time in gallant conversation when I am asked to guard the King and the Queen. Some of us have to remember their position in order for the company to prove its value."

"And you are sober! I am afraid I must ask: are you feeling well or should I seek a physician?"

Porthos' boisterous laughter echoed around them. It startled a couple of guests who were passing nearby and had not seen the three Musketeers in the shadows.

"And you were saying he was growing soft," Athos muttered.

"Who is growing soft?" Aramis inquired. His friends pretended not to hear him and became suddenly very interesting in their duty. "Am I growing softer? Is that what you mean?"

"Let's say that you are not the same old Aramis as you used to be. I'm not saying it's a bad thing!" Porthos added quickly. "It's simply different. You don't see it, do you?" His friend crossed his arms.

"Please, enlighten me."

"To begin with, you never stay long when we go for drinks. You always leave after a few hours. And we have considerably less time to practise at the Garrison. We used to wake up at dawn, but now...d'Artagnan sleeps like a baby and I have to wait for ages before he decides to show his face."

"Porthos, my friend. Are you jealous of Elise?"

"No."

"Yes, he is."

"Shut your mouth! I am not jealous of her." This time, it was Aramis' turn to laugh loudly. He slapped his friend's shoulder. He _was_ jealous.

"I have to say, you are adorable. You are my best friends, you, Athos and d'Artagnan. So yes, things have changed a little, but wouldn't you neglect your comrades if you knew you had such a fine woman waiting for you at home?"

"Perhaps I would. Still, this one's often too drunk to fence," he mumbled, looking darkly at Athos. "And do not call me adorable ever again," he added, his white teeth almost glowing in the darkness.

"Fine! I will come to fence with you some mornings. However, do not come complaining when my wife assaults you because I leave her freezing by herself in our bed before the break of dawn."

Porthos stifled a groan, flexing his muscles to show that he was not scared of such a short woman. His demeanour relaxed at his friend's words. Aramis clasped his shoulders roughly unable to stop laughing.

"You will always surprise me. I'm sorry I've made you feel abandoned. Should I ask Elise to prepare the second bedroom so you can come and be closer to me whenever you feel depressed?"

"Go back to your ludicrous dancing before I make this party less boring by breaking some bones."

"As if you scared me! You better be waiting for me tomorrow at first light or else I'll come hunting you down!" The Musketeer shouted, making his way back to the guests and to his wife.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter XXIX

The birthday festivities for the royal couple came and went, the Musketeers having a little more time for regular missions and less idle standing. Aramis would have never imagined it would be Porthos complaining about the changes in his life. As far as he was concerned, he found it quite well-balanced and since his ankle was better, it was never dull. He could run around and his fighting was becoming more fluid. Captain Tréville was once again able to give him assignments that required a lot of riding and could be potentially dangerous.

Elise and him never mentioned her talk with the Queen. They never discussed this decision either; it was an unspoken agreement. It was all for the best. The young woman seemed to have been transformed by the ball at the Palace. She spoke about it for days, regaling Constance and her new friend and neighbour Delphine with every detail she could remember. Moreover, she had met several young girls that night and she was enchanted when she was invited by one of them one afternoon. There were so many distractions to be had in Paris.

It would soon be November, which meant that the Dauphin would celebrate his first birthday. The King had requested another party for his heir, albeit less incredible than the ones in September. Aramis was trying not to think too much about. It bothered him that he had only been assigned one night on nursery watch the past month, and none during the day. He could not voice it out loud though. Porthos and d'Artagnan took charge of it. They had strongly complained after finding out that they were to be near the Dauphin at least once a week whereas their friend only had one night.

"If you want to defy the King's orders, please go ahead. But do not expect me to come visit you when you'll root at the Châtelet," Captain Tréville had replied curtly. "You are Musketeers and if you are assigned to watch the Dauphin until he turns 20 then you will do it. His Majesty has other assignments for Aramis."

The interest Louis XIII had developed for the soldier since Versailles and the hunting party was becoming oppressing. _Monsieur Aramis_ had to follow him everywhere he went, once he was even asked to practise sword-fighting against his Majesty. It had not been a good day for him, he was too afraid to wound his royal opponent. The King had won without glory, the Musketeers praising his fine skills and his swift parry.

A few days before the Dauphin's birthday, the new schedule regarding his security and guards was given to the Musketeers while they were eating lunch at the Garrison. Aramis' spoon tinkered in the table when he saw that his name was not on it. He felt his heart stop for a second, and he gripped the table, his knuckles turning white. His friends were complaining as always, oblivious to his problem. Only Athos noticed, and he put a strong hand on his shoulder to restrain him.

"Aramis, calm down," he mumbled in his beard, taking a sip of his wine.

"How can she..."

"She can do whatever she wants. She's the Queen." Aramis was fuming. He made to stand up, but his companion's grip sat him back down. "If you move, I punch you."

"You would not. Not here."

"I swear, Aramis. Stay where you are or I punch you." Aramis shook his shoulder free, put his hat on his head and stood up anyway to go see Captain Tréville. His friend stood up as well and turned him around before punching him hard on the nose. The other fell to the ground, shocked. All the soldiers in the room stopped talking but Athos simply finished his glass of wine then he walked out without looking back.

"What have you done?" Porthos asked, helping Aramis back on his feet. He wiped the blood running down his nose with the back of his hand.

"He must not be happy to see that I am given better duties when he has to watch a baby," he lied.

"Well, I am not pleased either but I'm not going to beat you up for it. It's not as if it was your fault." Aramis could not help but wonder, though. What had happened in the past months in order for the Queen (because it could only be her) to shun him from his child? They had to talk. He had to find a way to see her.

Straightening his uniform, he went outside to get some fresh air. The weather was growing chilly, the sky was grey. It looked like it could start snowing at any moment. Gathering his warm cape around himself, he leaned against a wall. The wind was on his face, but he could not have cared less. This unfortunate new schedule should not have affected him that much. It was wrong and it was dangerous. Athos had been right in his action, although the soldier's jaw was sore already. The punch had terribly hurt.

"Are your thoughts clearer?" a sour voice asked. "You _cannot_ act like you just did, Aramis."

"Must we really talk about this again?"

"As long as you won't understand that your actions could cost you your life as well as the lives of others, yes we will!" Athos' face was so close to his own; they could not risk their conversation being heard. His friend glared at him.

"She has no right to keep me away. She..."

"She has every right, you fool! She may do whatever she pleases!"

"But she promised!"

"Listen to yourself!" Athos hissed. "You sound like a child. You're talking about the Queen, she can break whatever promise she desires and if she does, no one will blame her for it. Others will take the blame instead."

"I thought it would be different this time. You don't understand, Athos. I have to see him, he's my son."

"He's not! How can you still hold on to this idea? He is _not_. Do you hear me? You are no more than a mediocre guard for him and it is all you will ever be. You are nothing to him!"

Aramis had been trying to remain calm, but each of the other's words felt like another punch in the face. He could only take a certain amount of blows before it became too much.

"Take that back!" He pushed him away, Athos stumbling. "Take it back!"

Athos pushed right back, cornering his companion. One of his legs went between Aramis' and he put one arm to his throat to keep him from moving. Hats fell to the ground. Aramis struggled for a while, trying to break free, until he choked, Athos' grip tightening.

"I will not. You are upset, very well. Be upset in silence. You are _this_ close to ruining your life even more, Aramis. Have you thought about Elise? Have you thought about your _wife_?"

He realized that no, he had not thought about her, too blinded by his anger and his lack of understanding. Athos may care about Elise and his friend's well-being, he was also scared for himself. Aramis knew it; he knew his feelings would lead to multiple downfalls, some harder than others. He was his son, though. He was his son, he was his son...He was his son, was he not?

"Let me go."

"Give me your word you will not do anything foolish."

"I do not owe you anything, Athos. Let me go." The older Musketeer only released his friend when they heard Porthos' loud voice coming up the stairs.

"I am serious, Aramis."

"So am I."

They went their separate ways and did not talk to each other for the following days. Aramis was all to aware that now, Elise would pay the consequences too if he made a serious mistake so he wished, he wished really hard he could stop feeling the way he did. He wished he could disregard the new schedule and spend days at the Palace only seeing the royal toddler from afar.

He stood still during the birthday ball where the Dauphin was not even present. He was probably sleeping in his crib. Many courtiers had brought gifts in hope to earn either the King or the Queen's favours. It sickened him to realize how spoiled the prince was. In his heart, Aramis hoped he would not grow up temperamental like the King.

The following week, there was finally an opportunity for him to approach the nursery and hopefully, the Queen. Athos and Porthos were out of town on a mission. D'Artagnan was supposed to keep watch over the Dauphin, but he was endlessly complaining about how he would spend a better night with Contance. Aramis could not miss this chance.

So there he was, standing at the door of the royal nursery, listening to Marguerite's desperate voice as she tried to calm the baby down. He had been crying for such a long time that even with the door closed, the Musketeer's ears were starting to hurt. He could not go inside, though. He knew he could not. He was already taking too many risks being at the Palace.

Suddenly, the door opened and Marguerite was facing him, the Dauphin wailing in her arms. She looked at a loss.

"What is wrong with him?" he asked, concerned.

"I don't know. Ssssshhhhhh. He's been asking for the Queen. Lucie went to look for her but it's been an hour and they are not back yet. He's been crying ever since he's last eaten. Sssssshhhhhh."

"Maman, maman, maman!" It was more a shriek this time. There were tears on his face and he was throwing his tiny fists in the air.

"It may be something he has eaten," Aramis offered. It hurt him physically to watch the child suffer.

"That's what I thought, too, but rubbing his belly changes nothing."

"Would you like me to seek the physician?"

"I was actually hoping you could help me. Please? I should not say this but...the Queen has been quite cross lately and if she finds out I sent for a physician before asking her...Please, Aramis?"

He did not quite know what to say. At least he was not the only one who had noticed the change in the Queen's behaviour. It may not be all his fault after all, whatever it was he had done. He followed the governess inside the nursery. The Dauphin was gently laid in his arms as he walked to and fro, rocking him and singing lullabies. A tiny hand grabbed his leather jacket, the other clutching his arm as the little body was shaken by more sobs.

Whether it was the singing, or the firm grip he had on his son, the cries somewhat lessened after a while. There were hiccups now that Aramis tried to ease by rubbing circles on baby Louis' belly.

"Ssssshhhhh, your Highness, sssshhhhhh. It's nothing. Everything will get better soon. I promise. It's nothing."

"Impressive," Marguerite congratulated him. "It seems that you have missed your true vocation."

"It's a gift," Aramis answered softly, the steady movement of his body calming the baby. The only talent the governess lacked in such a situation was the love a parent could give to his child.

"May I know what is the meaning of this?" A voice coldly asked behind them. Marguerite cringed when she turned around to face the Queen. "Marguerite?"

"I can explain, your Majesty. I..."

"Silence. You have greatly disappointed me. Return to your apartments for the night. Your services are no longer required." The Queen's words cut at the governess who curtsied then left. Aramis did not move, waiting for the wrath of the monarch to be directed at him. His hold on the Dauphin somewhat tightened out of habit. Always protect those in danger, no matter the danger.

"Are you trying to kill us all, Aramis?"


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter XXX

_"__Are you trying to kill us all, Aramis?"_

"Never, your Majesty. He's not feeling well. I was trying to help."

"You should not be here. I thought you promised you would not come when you were not scheduled to."

"I thought you promised I would somewhat be on the schedule." The words were harsh, harsher than he would have liked. He was still angry with her. The Queen looked at him with such furious eyes that he regretted having spoken at once.

"You are talking to your Queen, Aramis. I could have you put in jail for such flagrant disrespect."

"I am but your humble servant, your Majesty. If it is your wish..."

"Nonsense," she cut him off, stepping closer to the man. Her son still had hiccups and Aramis' hand was on his back, tapping lightly. The Musketeer was looking straight at her, trying to decipher her emotions. "Although a few days in a dark cell may dampen your ardour and keep you in your proper place."

"I meant no harm, I can assure you. I'm only seeking a word with you in private. There are things I don't understand, your Majesty."

"Such as?"

"You did promise I would be assigned to his protection, but my name is not even on the schedule for this month. Have I done something wrong for you to punish me so?"

The Queen looked away. The last months had been quite difficult for her, ever since she had met with his wife for the second time. Every time she looked at the heir, how ever strongly she wanted to see some of her features in him, she could only see Aramis'. It frightened her so much. If Elise could see it, more people were bound to uncover the trickery and see that the prince looked nothing like his royal "father."

"I'm afraid," she finally confessed.

"Afraid of me, your Majesty?"

"No, Aramis. I'm afraid that someone will figure out our secret. Your wife has opened my eyes. She saw it in a second: that boy looks nothing like me." The Musketeer walked toward her, baby Louis' head on his chest, playing with the buttons of his jacket.

"Maman." The Queen touched his hair, soothing it back. Aramis asked her if she wanted to take him, but she was too shaken to trust herself. "Maman."

"Yes, my love. I love you so much." She kissed the top of his head, her body so close to Aramis she could feel his warmth. Taking a few steps back would have been safer. Instead, she stayed as close as she could to their son. "Someone will see. Someone will notice there is no trace of the King in him. I'll be dead, he'll be...I don't even want to think about what could happen. But you, I can protect you. I can keep you away from him and nobody will see who his true father is."

"Was her Majesty trying to protect me?" Aramis did not believe what he was hearing. How could he imagine that such a powerful woman would so worry about him? He knew she cared a little, but he was rather surprised.

"I was. I must not have done a very good job since you have managed to make your way here. Oh, Aramis. What is going to happen to us?" Her voice quivered and when he looked down at her, her anger had been replaced by sheer fright. Holding the baby with one arm, he led her to the bed, sitting down next to her.

"With all due respect, your Majesty, I'm going to talk to you like I talked to my wife." He waited a few seconds but when she did not protest, he continued. "Nobody will die. Not you, not him, not me. Do you hear me? No one. I promised before and I will promise again. You have nothing to fear. I will always protect you. This boy will grow up to be a handsome prince, everybody will love him and one day, he will make a very good King. That's not the trade I wish he had chosen, but there is nothing I can do about it. He will always be able to count on me, though. Always." The Queen was listening intently, nodding, her hand holding baby Louis' fingers.

"I'm with child," she whispered after a while. Somehow, he felt she should have sounded happier about the news, even if it was a surprise for him.

"Congratulations," he managed to say. "That is good news, isn't it? The King must be enthusiastic."

"He does not know yet. You're the first person I've told. What if they look nothing alike, Aramis? What if it is another boy and he looks like his father and people see that something is quite not right?"

"You are worrying too much. Besides, look at him. Take a good look at your son. He does look like you. He has your ears and when he's happy, he has your smile. Look at these cheekbones." He pinched the heir's right cheek, a gesture that was highly out of place. The Queen was too distressed to rebuke him. "Just like his mother's. If I can make a suggestion?"

"Please do."

"Let his hair grow long, then tie it back. It was passed down from his grandmother but hers was always long and luxuriant with magnificent curls. A true Spanish lady. Mine is simply too short to be successfully tamed. We will not look alike. Do not let him grow a beard either."

"What about a moustache?" He cocked his head to the side and it made her smile a little.

"Do not let him grow a beard _or_ a moustache."

"Very well, Sir. Your orders will be followed. I apologise, Aramis." Could she keep on surprising him more this evening?

"'mis. 'mis," the child repeated.

"Your apologies are unnecessary. I should be the one thanking you for attempting to protect my life."

The Queen stood up, facing away from him. Her hand touched her face and he knew she was drying tears. She thought he had not noticed. Her back straightened, making her look taller. When she turned around, she looked like a monarch again.

"We should not talk while he is around. He is starting to repeat words. It could put us in perilous situations."

"Of course, your Majesty."

"I will ask Captain Tréville to put you back on the schedule since you are too stubborn to respect orders from your Queen."

"My apologies."

"You've been taking good care of him, Aramis." There was a strong chemistry between the father and the son, she could not deny it. The child certainly recognized the Musketeer, he was seeing him often. His face would soon be as familiar as the nurses'.

"'mis, 'mis, 'mis," baby Louis chanted and Aramis could not help laughing. The discussion he had dreaded had ended up taking a good turn. It was a relief to know that he had done nothing to earn the Queen's wrath.

"You are saying it wrong, your Highness. My name is Aramis. A-ra-mis."

"'mis!"

"It is growing late. Ring Marguerite for me." The Musketeer did as he was told, grateful to see that she may not be as angry as the governess as she seemed to be on her arrival.

"Will you be fine, your Majesty?" he inquired. Her hands were on her stomach. Although she was deeply relieved to be with child again if only to demonstrate to the King that they could have children, there was so much on her mind.

"I am the Queen. It does not matter if I am fine or not. The only thing that matters is that I perform my duty."

"It matters to me."

"You are very kind. Give him to me and resume your position." Aramis bowed, missing the warmth of his son's body in his arms. He was standing outside the door when Marguerite hurried back in the corridor, looking extremely anxious. He hoped she was going to be fine.

* * *

When they came back from their mission, Athos and Porthos brought back the snow as well. The ground was lightly powdered, just enough to crunch whenever the soldiers walked on it. It was very cold and it was not even December. Drinking was their favourite activity to stay warm.

"Here's another one," Aramis announced, sitting down and putting a brand new bottle in front of Athos. The other raised his head, looking at him from under the brim of his hat. They had gathered in a tavern, Porthos and d'Artagnan were robbing Red Guards of their money at a game of cards. "Cheers." Athos raised his glass silently, swallowing its content in one go. They had not talked since their last argument.

"I'm sorry. I'll always be a reckless fool when it comes to him, but things have settled down while you were away." The older raised a suspicious eyebrow. Aramis had been talking to the Queen again. He would never learn. Athos was tired of trying.

"Let's not talk about it anymore."

"One more thing though. The Queen will shortly announce her pregnancy and I swear, _I swear_, I had nothing to do with this one." Athos glared at him.

"Are you the Queen's confident now?"

"It came up." He shrugged. "Act surprised when the King will make the announcement." Athos rolled his eyes.

"Please, Aramis. Here, buy us a new bottle." He threw some more coins at his friend.

* * *

The King was in a joyous mood the day he told his Council and the ministers that his Queen was expecting again. His first-born was even in attendance with him. One year old was an age deemed decent for him to be brought forth more often, even if his endless and meaningless chatter led to him being withdrawn quite rapidly. There was a glow on the Queen's cheeks and this time around, Aramis was actually happy for her. This second baby was her security. Everything would be all right for her.

"Do you think we will have to watch this one as well?" Porthos wondered as they were leaving the Palace. The first snow had not lasted. It was turning into mud.

"I suppose."

"Captain Tréville?" Porthos exclaimed, half-running to catch up with their commanding officer walking in front of them. "Captain? I happily volunteer to keep watch on the Dauphin any time it is necessary, rain or sunshine. I'll even hold his hand if he wants to walk."

"We'll see," Tréville eventually replied. "It seemed to me that you were doing a rather good job standing in this corridor. And with so much training, it would be easy for you to continue your fine art."

d'Artagnan and Aramis laughed loudly at their friend being played by the Captain.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter XXXI

Christmas was drawing near, and Elise was busying herself with cooking and preparing a big meal for the Musketeers. It left her little time to reflect on the fact that her parents would not be around to celebrate this special holiday. She had always enjoyed this particular Mass, it filled her with more joy than usual. It was a time for celebration and she was happy to spend it with Aramis. They had grown so much closer these past months; it really felt as if they had known each other forever. He had fixed her in the best way possible.

She was spending a lot of time with her neighbour Delphine. She had offered to teach some reading and writing to her children, which kept her occupied most of the day. Elise had not been feeling well lately, though. It was very cold in Paris, it was either snowing or too cold for snow. They kept fires burning in the house all day long, but she often dreaded lying in her bed as it was freezing under the sheets. Many of the men and women living in their street had been sick. It had also happened to Constance, although she was recovering quickly. Elise did not want to be in bed for Christmas, but the dizziness, the nausea and the pain in her stomach suggested otherwise for a few days.

It was Aramis' turn to be her nurse. He had proved in the past it was a role he handled perfectly. She was fed soup he made himself (and which left room for improvement but she refrained from criticising him) and he held her in his arms to keep her warm. One morning she vomited on him, much to her shame. She spent the rest of that day apologizing. Aramis had seen worse, he simply wanted her to feel better.

A week before Christmas, Elise seemed to have mostly recovered even if some symptoms subsisted. He was reassured. Aramis did not like the snow and the cold, and he could not wait for winter to be over. It was in times like this that he regretted living in the north of the country. During his childhood, they barely had any frost or ice in December.

He came back home from the Garrison one day, his cape on his shoulders and his head down. He would even have been grateful if it had rained instead. He shrugged his shoulders before opening the front door, closing it as fast as he could to prevent the cold air from entering. There was much agitation in his small house. Elise was sitting at the table with Constance and Delphine, a small girl on her lap. Aramis could not remember the names of all the children, there were too many. One was currently sleeping on the sofa by the fireplace, but all the others were running around, screaming and shrieking.

"Ladies," he greeted them, taking off his hat and rubbing his hands to warm them up.

"I take it it's still snowing?"

"Yes, it is. It is _freezing_."

Elise put the child down, standing up to help him take off his jacket. The children suddenly stopped moving to stare in wonder at his sword and his pistols. The older boy, who had to be about ten years old, stepped timidly closer.

"Is it a real one?" he asked, pointing at the sword.

"It is definitely not made out of the wood! Would you like to see it?" They all nodded enthusiastically. Aramis unsheathed it carefully. The blade reflected the light from the candles. One of the children made to touch it but the Musketeer quickly put it out of reach.

"Be careful. It is rather sharp; you would get hurt."

"I want to have one just like yours when I am older!" His mother shook her head behind them.

"Do you? Well, come by the Garrison in about ten years time and I'll see what I can do for you." Aramis ruffled the boy's hair, sheathing the sword. He was the centre of attention for the entire time the family stayed in the house.

* * *

It was dark and there was so much wind outside that it sounded like a blizzard. Aramis joined Elise in the kitchen which had to be the hottest room thanks to the fire, after he had changed out of his wet clothes.

"How are you feeling tonight?" he demanded, sneaking his arms around her waist, pulling her close. The young woman let go of the knife she was using to hold on to his arms.

"I'm still feeling a little bit sick. I'm tired." He kissed her cheek and buried his head on her neck.

"Is it my fault?" Elise felt his lips stretch into a smile against her skin.

"Last night certainly did not help, but no. It's not your fault. I wonder if it's something I've eaten."

"Are you criticising my cooking?"

"I wouldn't dare!" She bit her lip, trying to stifle her laughter. Aramis felt her body shake so he spun her around, gazing into her eyes. She looked exhausted; she looked different. His hand was hot against her forehead. There was no sign of fever.

"Do not look so concerned. I will be fine. Let me get back to cooking or you will eat raw cabbage tonight." The Musketeer made a disgusted face, but went to lean against the door to watch her. "Since you've nothing better to do, could you bring some more logs for the fire?"

She was smiling innocently. Aramis saluted.

"Of course, Madame. Right away, Madame!"

* * *

It was Christmas Eve and Elise rejoiced in the fact that she had been spending a lot of time at the Garrison. She was feeling much better. All the people she cared about were around her. Christophe seemed to have been integrated to the soldiers somehow. He was less moody and more respectful. The Musketeers who used to make his life so difficult in the spring treated him almost as an equal. It reassured her. Her uncle was busy as ever, but he found time to eat lunch with her one day. His doubts about Aramis being married were a little lessened whenever he saw his niece glowing with happiness. The Musketeer was different when he was with her than when he was a simple soldier.

Aramis often said that the Musketeers were his first family; Elise was actually beginning to think of his friends as her own family as well. She said so to him when he came back from escorting the royal couple to the Christmas service in Notre-Dame.

"I'm happy to believe so. I know Porthos likes you as if you were his own sister."

"Aramis?" she asked after a moment of silence. They were sitting on their bed, the Musketeer having just taken off his shirt. Elise rubbed his bare shoulders. He was enjoying the soothing feeling. The interior of the Cathedral was always cold and his entire body was numb.

"Yes?"

"If you had to choose one of your friends, who would it be?"

"Do you wish to start a civil war, Elise?" He laughed, lying on the bed to look at her. She wore her hair in a braid on her shoulder, her nightgown flowing around her. There was a small smile on her face. "I could not choose one of them. They are all important to me, you hardly see one without the others. We used to be the three inseparable before d'Artagnan arrived. We're four now, still inseparable."

"We will have to choose at one point, though. We could organize a tournament!"

"What in the name of God are you talking about?"

She lay on her side, her fingers absent-mindedly playing with his necklaces.

"I was thinking Constance could be the godmother because she's my best friend in Paris and it's easy because I only have one, but for you...It will be a tougher choice."

"What godmother? Elise..."

"You are going to be a real father, Aramis," she whispered in his ear. For once he was speechless, staring at her, astonished. He propped himself on his elbows to examine her body better. There he was, the charming Musketeer whose reputation when it came to women used to precede him, and he had not seen it?

"You're...Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"How long? How long do you think?"

"A couple of months I would say, but the sickness made me truly realize what was going on."

"Let me see." Aramis pushed her down on the bed, gathering her shirt past her hips to gaze at her stomach. His hand rested on the white skin. He would not cry. He would not cry because he knew there was a baby inside, a baby who would be completely and officially his. A baby he would hold in his arms without having to look behind his shoulder.

"I doubt you can see anything yet." She was correct, but it did not matter to him. He had to be dreaming, this could not be happening. It was too amazing to be true. His fingers trailed around her navel, watching goosebumps appear. Suddenly he was standing, Elise in his arms. The wooden floor was cold under her feet, but she did not really care. His reaction was what she had expected so she exulted. She was so happy and it had been very difficult to wait like she had before delivering the news. She had wanted to be certain of what was happening first.

"You are a wonderful woman. Thank you."

Elise laughed, kissing him back. She felt the tears on her face before she saw them.

"When we tell them, don't mention the crying."

"Not a word."

Aramis hugged her closer then spun her around in the room.

* * *

There were so many thoughts whirling in his head that Aramis hardly slept that night. They had spent hours talking quietly about the future until Elise fell asleep. When he was awake by himself, he looked at his locket, opening it to gaze at the miniature of his son. The Dauphin had changed dramatically since it had been made, but it did not bother him.

"You're going to have a little brother." As a matter of fact, he was going to have two. The Musketeer could not care less about the royal child. His was so much more important. What if it was a girl? He could live with a miniature of Elise running around the house, although she would probably have difficulties finding a husband when she'd be older. Her father already knew he would be fierce with any suitors.

He laughed quietly, shaking his head. The baby was not even born yet and he was thinking about what would occur twenty years from now. He had hated not being able to care for his first-born's mother like he should have or being denied conversations about their son's future prospects. Aramis was aware that he would be the most dotting expectant father in Paris, simply because he had not had the chance the first time around.

Elise moved in her sleep, her hand coming to rest on his leg. She looked perfectly content. Aramis thought back on his doubts when Tréville discovered that they had grown quite close. There had been fear and shame since he was not sure he could give up his previous life for a single woman. She had been right, though, people could change. He would always be a soldier at heart, it was what he had been born to do; his true purpose in life. He would always fight to defend the innocent and the people he loved. This list was simply becoming longer in the best of ways.

Trying not to wake her up, Aramis lay back in bed, his arm around Elise's shoulders to keep her close and warm. They woke up in the same position in the morning. The young woman was tapping his chest to stir him.

"Wake up or we will miss the Mass." It hardly triggered a reaction. "We will have to go to the other side of town to attend another one and I fear that there will be nothing left to eat at the Garrison when we come back."

This threat was enough to make her husband open his eyes. He was groggy, but a smile spread on his face when he remembered what she had announced the night before.

"I will not give them this pleasure." Aramis was on his feet, looking for a decent shirt to wear at church.

Snow had not stopped falling outside. Elise almost fell head first after sliding in the street. The Musketeer did not let go of her arm for the rest of the journey, but it simply made her laugh.

"I like the snow," she declared after they were safely inside the church. "It is pretty."

"And cold. And it turns to mud when it melts. Where does the beauty go, I wonder."

"I remember going for walks with my parents when I was younger and the entire landscape was white. Once, Christophe even threw a snow ball at me with so much strength that I fell down."

"Should I fight him for it?" Elise rolled her eyes, patting his hand.

"It was ten years ago, Aramis. And nobody will fight anyone on Christmas day."

"I could at least throw a snow ball back."

"If you so wish, as long as nobody gets hurt. It is actually a sight I would love to witness: Musketeers throwing snowballs like children! A true Christmas present!"

"You've given me a better present," he said very seriously before the organ started playing.

Although she had always enjoyed this particular mass and the hymns, it felt more special this year. They were celebrating the birth or Jesus Christ and she had just told her husband they were going to have a baby. It terrified her a little, being pregnant and the whole process of delivering a child. However, it was Aramis' and she knew it would be the best.

She would worry about everything else later. Not today.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter XXXII

Elise's back was warming up by the gigantic fireplace in the Garrison's common room. There had been so much to eat today that she was full. She did not think she could swallow anything else for days. The atmosphere was as festive as it could be, given that many Musketeers were on missions or on duty some place else. The cup of spiced wine in her hand, in addition to the fire, was slowly lulling her to sleep.

She closed her eyes for a second, listening to the laughter and the constant shouts from the men. They could not be quiet when they were together. Someone was cheering on d'Artagnan then there was a rattle and it sounded like something had been broken. Elise did not need to ask to know what had happened: they almost always broke something when they arm-wrestled. The cook was too drunk to chastise them, so they kept on playing.

"If you're not careful, you are going to set yourself on fire," a deep voice warned her. Opening her eyes, Elise noticed Athos sitting next to her. She sat up straight; her back and her hair were getting dangerously close to the flames indeed. "More wine?" he offered.

"No, thank you. One of us must be able to guide the other home." Aramis stood up, his balance not as good as when he was completely sober, proving her point. Athos drank from his glass. He was so broody.

"Why aren't you enjoying yourself with them?"

"This is how I enjoy myself."

"So I have noticed. Christmas is a cheerful day, Athos. You should be happier."

"I hate Christmas," he stated. The young woman was surprised. It was the first time she had heard someone say they hated this holiday. From what she knew of the Musketeer, though, there were not many things he liked anyway.

"That is sad. It's one of my favourite holidays. Everybody should rejoice and enjoy the atmosphere. It's snowing, there are fires everywhere, and holly. I love holly!" He glanced at her, seeing only a blurry shape.

"I got married on Christmas Day," he declared, finishing another glass of wine. The bottle was empty. Elise watched him stand up to fetch another one. He sat back down, almost missing the bench.

"I did not know you were married."

"I'm not. Not anymore." Another glass of wine. "She's dead, well, I thought she was, but she is not."

Elise was greatly confused. Was he saying the truth or was the alcohol giving another meaning to his words?

"I don't understand."

"It's better if you don't. She's a dangerous and vile woman. You do not want to ever cross her path."

"I'm sorry, Athos," Elise said, putting her hand on his. He glanced at it. "Aramis and you seem to have had complicated lives."

"Correct. The difference is that I was not aware of what I was doing when I married her. I did not know the consequences it would one day have." Athos stared at his friend, laughing loudly with Porthos. They were talking with Christophe whose face and ears were turning bright red, whether from drink or embarrassment, he could not tell.

"He will always protect me and you. I know he does not want you to suffer because of him."

Elise did not know if the older man would remember their conversation, but they had never talked about Aramis and the Queen before so it was a chance she could not miss. She wanted to take the bottle away from his grasp; it did nothing good to him. If she was being honest, she felt pity for him. His life did not sound like it had been a pleasant one.

"Of course, he does not. However, if he could actually think before acting from now on, it will prevent many hardships."

"Isn't it what I am here for? Slap his head whenever he even thinks about doing something stupid?" she joked, glad to notice that it made Athos smile. He looked at her with glassy eyes.

"Absolutely. He was in desperate need of a guardian. My threats have no impact whatsoever on him. Yours however, they must work perfectly."

Elise laughed out loud and it was a small victory when he chuckled as well. He offered her wine once again and this time she accepted it. The warm liquid felt good.

"What are you two laughing about?" Porthos asked, grabbing the bowl full of bread on the table and shovelling a large piece in his mouth.

"Her husband."

"What has he done this time?"

"Nothing. Elise is nicely taming him." Porthos swallowed his food, smirking.

"Well, we all know who commands in _that_ house. That's you," he added for Elise's sake, in case she did not understand.

"I do not order him around."

"She does not," Aramis agreed, standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders.

"I demand very politely with insistence." Elise looked up at her husband, grinning while his friend laughed even louder at her words. Even Athos smiled a little more. Aramis' face fell a little at being mocked and he sat down next to her, taking the cup of wine from her hands.

"You've had enough, woman. You don't know what you're saying anymore."

"Ooooh, someone does not like being the laughing stock!" Aramis stretched his leg under the table until he found Porthos'. He kicked hard, the other groaning. It did not stop him from retaliating. Aramis screamed out in pain.

"I sprained that ankle last summer, you idiot!"

"Don't tell me it hasn't healed yet!"

"It's still sore sometimes, if you must know."

"Would you listen to that poor child!"

"Shut your mouth."

"Shut yours first. You started it."

"Sometimes, I swear they've given me babes instead of proper soldiers," Captain Tréville complained, shaking his head. He seemed to find the two Musketeers hopeless. The two concerned did not appear to find the comment offensive. They were actually smirking at each other and Porthos leaned over to slap his friend's shoulder. Elise figured out a long time ago it was their way to show they cared without having to say that they loved each other.

"Have you finally come to party with us, Captain?" Porthos asked, already looking for a glass to give him.

"It's not Christmas every day after all." He smiled at his niece as he sat down. It was a day to spent with family and he was her closest. The announcement of her pregnancy to Aramis had helped her in not thinking too much about her parents, but she really wished they could be here with them to see what their children had become. She smiled back at her uncle, stealing back her cup of wine from her husband's fingers.

"See? She disobeys you and you are not saying anything. Shame on you," Porthos said, shaking his head as if the other had done something outrageous. Aramis shot him a dark look but decided that it was not worth replying. He looked at Elise instead.

"Not him," he decided. She had to laugh. Their friend looked confused.

"Not me for what?"

"We are looking for a godfather but you, my friend, have just lost the privilege of even trying to become one," Aramis said very calmly, drinking his wine while the others made sense of what he had just announced. Porthos slammed both hands on the table.

"You're pregnant!" he shouted. When the young woman nodded to confirm, he scrambled to his feet, knocked a chair in the process of coming to her side and gave her such a strong hug she felt light-headed afterwards.

"Easy there. Don't break her," Aramis warned him.

"I hope he looks more like you than his father," Porthos whispered, still loud enough for all to hear. His friend punched his shoulder. Then, they both burst out laughing and hugged.

Elise's face was aching from smiling as she received many congratulations from all the soldiers who had heard the news. Her uncle kissed her forehead. It was not his intention yet she was on the brink of crying when he said that her parents would be so proud of her. They were mistaken for tears of joy, but she still welcomed her brother's hug, hiding her face against his shoulder until she felt recovered enough from her emotions.

"I'll get more wine." Athos' decision was applauded by the men.

* * *

It was already dark when they left the Garrison. It had truly felt like old times for Aramis: the endless banter, the games, the gambles, the wine. Especially the wine. He staggered along, leaning on Elise. He was so heavy, it was going to take them forever to reach their house.

"I'm sorry," he said, trying to straighten up.

"Someone enjoyed himself a little too much, that's all. Put one foot in front of the other. I won't be able to drag you home if you fall."

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"There's no need to apologise." They walked a few more meters until they had to round a corner and Aramis reeled against a brick wall. He cursed and Elise rolled her eyes, tugging on his arm to direct him in the correct direction.

"I'm sorry."

"I heard you the first two times, Aramis."

"Oh, sorry." Someone laughed ahead of them. When Elise squinted and saw who it was, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you going to stand there and watch or are you going to actually help me?" she asked d'Artagnan. He was wearing a heavy cape covered in powdered snow. He must have spent quite some time outside. Hurrying to her, he put Aramis' arm around his shoulders. Elise suddenly felt a lot lighter.

"Were you headed home?"

"No, I thought he needed to drink some more and we were going to the nearest tavern. What do you think? Of course we're headed home!" she snapped at him and the young man held out his free hand to keep her at bay.

"All right, all right! I was simply asking."

"Where did you disappear?" Elise asked when they had started walking again. She was not sure whether her husband was still conscious or not as he was not apologising anymore. The young Musketeer had left the Garrison earlier in the afternoon, never explaining where he was going.

"I went to wish a friend a merry Christmas."

"Is this friend named Constance?" d'Artagnan stayed quiet for a moment.

"Perhaps."

"What is going on between the two of you anyway?" Elise was curious and she especially did not know not knowing. There had been times when she had seen d'Artagnan and Constance joke and almost flirt, but her friend was married. It was a matter she had never dared mention with the older woman.

"She's a very fine lady, intelligent, and smart, and funny. Her company is greatly enjoyable."

"Is that so? What about her husband? Do you enjoy his company as well?"

"He does sell great garments," Aramis slurred, wishing to take part in a conversation he barely understood. His wife patted his arm.

"It's complicated," d'Artagnan replied.

"I understood that much."

"Once upon a time, she was willing to leave him and come with me but...it never happened. So now, we try to see each other whenever we can."

"She's married d'Artagnan," Elise insisted. "Have you thought about what will happen to her if you are discovered?"

"I try not to dwell too much on this."

"Well, you should. Sometimes, it seems to me that Musketeers hardly ever think before acting." She shook her head. His situation may not be as precarious as Aramis', none of the soldiers were behaving in a way that would make their lives easier.

They did not talk for the rest of the walk. She simply thanked him when he carried Aramis up the stairs to their bedroom. Then she asked him to be careful and she was left alone with a snoring Musketeer on her bed.

It would be too difficult to undress him. Elise only rid him of his hat, his cape and his boots. She spread a heavy blanket on him and curled on his side, her head on his chest.

"Merry Christmas, Aramis." He must have heard her because he put his arm around her, pulling her closer.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter XXXIII

The Queen desired to spend some time in peace away from the agitation of Paris, just as she had done during her first pregnancy. This one was a lot more tiring and being in the countryside would be good for her health. It was decided that she would take residence at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, on the outskirts of Paris, until she gave birth to her second child. The King would be unable to accompany her but he promised he would travel many times to inquire about his Queen. She could not have cared less, but she thanked him nonetheless. There was no question asked about where the Dauphin would be: he would go wherever his mother went. So would many Musketeers, the Queen's safety being paramount.

It was February when all the preparations were completed and the Palace was ready to welcome the expectant mother. The four Musketeers and many of their companions had packed their belongings to escort the Queen and her entourage. The road was never a safe place for a monarch, especially during winter when night fell early.

They left in the morning, thankful that it was not snowing. Athos and Aramis were among those escorting a first carriage while their friends were riding behind a second one which had left the Louvres some time afterwards as a security measure.

The road was quite desert for the main part of the journey. The riders were ever so vigilant, but the cold was numbing them quickly. Aramis kept blowing on his fingers to warm them up. When they talked, and it was not often, they blew out fog.

"Someone's approaching," one the guards said, pointing to their left. They narrowed their eyes to try to discern something among the trees. They heard the branches and dead leaves crack under footsteps before they saw anyone.

"I'd say more than one." Out of habit, the Musketeers drew their swords and their pistols, closing in on the carriage.

"What's happening?" Marguerite asked, opening the carriage door when she realized it had stopped.

"Close that door," Aramis ordered, his eyes still strained in front of him. They waited a few minutes, none of them talking, but they did not hear anything. Athos decided it was safe to start again.

"False alarm. Let's go if we..." Someone fired a pistol, not letting him finish his sentence. The bullet missed him, hitting the side of the carriage instead. The horses neighed, Marguerite screamed, Aramis fired and they heard someone collapse on the ground.

He drew his second pistol, aimed at a second man coming in their direction and killed him as well.

"Keep near the carriage!" Athos ordered, pulling on his reins so that his horse would stay where it was. Another shot was heard, and a guard groaned as he fell from his horse.

"Cowards! Show yourself!" Aramis shouted. "What?" he added when the other glared at him. "Look, it worked!"

Three men jumped in front of them, daggers and swords in their hands. They seemed to be out of munitions. Athos dismounted, attacking the closest one. They had to be simple bandits because their parry was no match for the Musketeer.

"Go warn the others! Stay there! Protect the Queen!" he yelled at Aramis while holding one of his opponents by the neck. The latter was struggling, kicking the soldier. Athos' foot hit his leg, there was a crack of bones. Aramis did not wait to see what followed.

He galloped towards the second carriage, hoping that the Queen had not been attacked, too. He found them a mile back and everything was quiet.

"We were attacked," he explained to his friends when he reached them.

"Where's Athos?"

"Fighting. We have to turn around. The road is not safe ahead."

"Where do you want us to go? We will never reach Paris before it's dark and then it will be even more dangerous."

"Is something wrong?" The Queen had opened her door. She was surprised to find Aramis there since he had left with the other carriage. He looked distressed and it alarmed her.

"The first carriage was attacked, your Majesty." A hand flew to her mouth at the news. "It may not be safe to continue on this road. Do not worry, we will find a solution." She nodded, trying to remain dignified, but she was afraid for her son, for herself, and for her guards. She remembered all too well the last time her life had been in danger and they had to find refuge in the convent. It was not an experience she wished to re-enact, especially not when she was with child.

"Shouldn't we go and help Athos?" d'Artagnan seemed really concerned and since he was never the last one to fight, it was no surprise that he wanted to help his friend.

"The Queen and the Dauphin first, d'Artagnan."

"I say we wait here a moment. If we return and Athos comes looking for us, he will not know where we are," Porthos suggested.

"I don't know. I do not like the idea of staying still." Aramis was as restless as his horse. His son was in danger, he wanted to take him in his arms and gallop as far away from this ambush as possible. At least their deception had worked. Marguerite had been the only occupant of the first carriage. He shuddered, imagining what could have happened if she had been accompanied by the child. "Have you seen a place on the way where we could take refuge?"

"Well, I've seen inns, but we are not taking the Queen to an inn. There were farms, too. They will not go there either. The Queen is not the Virgin Mary, she will not sleep in a barn." Porthos muttered.

"At this rate, she will sleep in a freezing carriage," d'Artagnan stated. He was not wrong.

"If I may suggest something." Lucas, one their companions had been listening to the three men and since they did not seem to find a proper solution, he had to chime in. "One of my cousins works for a Count who lives not far away from here. Perhaps three miles in that direction." He pointed to the left. "He will have no objection in offering refuge to her Majesty."

"That could work. Your Majesty?" Aramis tapped lightly on the carriage door until a maid opened it. The Queen was holding her son in her arms. He saw the despair and the fear in her eyes. "Lucas says there is a Count whose residence is near our position. We shall seek refuge there until it is safe to proceed to Saint-Germain."

"Very well. Thank you, Aramis."

"'mis?"

"Ssssshhhhh."

The Musketeer ignored his son, it was too dangerous to acknowledge what he had heard and it was definitely not the time or the place. He gave orders rapidly. D'Artagnan was to ride ahead to help Athos in case he needed any. A fellow soldier left to announce the incoming royal arrival after Lucas gave him instructions to find the mansion.

The rest of the escort started again, following Lucas who was leading the way.

* * *

The Count and his wife were both anxious and honoured to have such important guests under their roof. Servants were running around and the house seemed to have been turned upside down when the royal carriage eventually stopped on the entrance alley.

"Ladies, make sure the Queen's bedchamber is ready as soon as possible," Aramis asked them, opening the carriage doors to let the two maids out. They disappeared inside. In the carriage, the Queen was sitting still. Apart from the worry in her eyes, you could not have said that her life had been in danger. She was talking very calmly to her son, keeping him safe in her arms. She did not want to frighten him, no matter her own feelings.

"We have arrived your Majesty. Everything will be fine, here. I promise." He extended his hand to help her out. When she grabbed it, he felt her fingers shake. On second thoughts, she sat back down.

"Allow me a moment."

"Take all the time you require, your Majesty. Would you like me to..."

"Yes, please." It was not what he had meant, he merely intended to ask if she wanted to remain alone. Instead, she understood that he was offering to relieve her of the toddler. He could not say no to her in public, with such a frenzy around them.

The Dauphin put his tiny arms around the Musketeer's neck. He seemed oblivious to the turmoil, watching his surroundings with interest. He gazed at the person holding him, then grabbed the man's beard.

"A-mis!" he exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Ssssshhhhhssss. You should not call me like this."

"Aramis?" He turned around to see the Queen's extended hand. He took it, helping her out. Her free hand was resting on her swollen stomach. All this agitation was not good for her or the baby. She actually looked like she could faint at any time.

Still holding his son, he led her inside the house. Their hosts curtsied when they were introduced and warmly thanked. There was no one to take the Dauphin from him so Aramis stayed close while the Queen was led to her bedchamber. The maids were already bringing water for a warm bath.

"I am afraid we do not have many rooms available for you, messieurs," the Count apologized when Aramis joined him and Porthos downstairs.

"We do not intend to sleep much anyway. We'll establish a night watch and the others will make the best of it in the living room, if you do not object."

"Not at all. My men will help you settle down." They thanked him on his way out. He seemed like a rather nice man.

"I hope Athos and d'Artagnan find us," Porthos said, standing at the window.

"As do the others. François was injured when I left them. Marguerite was over there as well. She must be in shock."

"Did they even know who they were attacking?"

"I doubt it. They looked like mediocre bandits. Their pistols missed more than they hit."

Porthos shook his head.

"At least _they_ are safe." Aramis could not agree more, but he was growing worried for his friends. What if more bandits had arrived after he left and Athos had been outnumbered? What if d'Artagan had arrived too late?

His doubts were nullified a couple of hours later. Night had fallen but Porthos was still waiting by the window, eating absent-mindedly. They heard the horses before they saw anything.

Outside, they encountered many riders, most of them looking uninjured. Athos dismounted and went to help Marguerite who was riding behind d'Artagnan. She was shaking violently in the Musketeer's arms.

"She's in shock," he explained even if it was obvious. The Countess had come out to greet the new visitors and she said she would take care of the governess.

"Where's François?"

"The bullet killed him. There was nothing you could have done, Aramis," he added when he saw how hurt his friend looked. There was blood on his arm, though.

"What happened to you?"

"A rusty dagger, I would say. It is but a scratch."

"You do not get to decide. Go inside and I will stitch you up."

"Were you attacked after I left?" d'Artagnan asked Porthos, following the older Musketeers inside the warm mansion.

"No. Did they say anything?"

"I fear they did not have the leisure to do so." The younger man told his friends that when he had arrived to assist Athos, the assailants were all already dead. He did not even need to unsheathe his sword.

"It's a pity. They could have told us if there were more of them."

"Well, then, these ones will not do any harm anymore. The Queen and the Dauphin are safe, it is all that matters," Athos muttered, gritting his teeth when Aramis started to look at his injury. They were sitting by the fireplace, blood slowly dripping on the carpet. It could not be helped, his surgeon's work required light.

"What do we do now?" d'Artagnan inquired.

"We rest. We keep watch even if I doubt we may be in danger here. I will send a messenger to Captain Tréville tomorrow to explain the situation. Then we'll wait for new orders. Ouch."

"Sorry. I'm afraid I will have to disinfect it. I'll go see if I can find any alcohol." Aramis stood up in search of supplies. All the servants seemed to have disappeared upstairs to attend to the Queen's needs. Walking quietly in the corridor, he heard baby Louis' meaningless chatter as well as one of the maids comforting Marguerite. He heard her crying. He felt as if he was intruding on something he should not have witnessed. Silently, he retreated downstairs, deciding to fend for alcohol by himself.

* * *

A bottle of Armagnac had been found and when Aramis was done with his patient, it was empty. Most of it had been drunk by Athos, who did not care if he could not stay awake for a night watch. Being stitched up was painful so alcohol was required to numb the pain from the inside out. He was sleeping soundly by the fireplace. D'Artagnan was also sleeping, sitting in an armchair. His neck was bound to hurt in the morning.

It had been decided that there would be one guard stationed at the rear of the mansion and one at the front. It was too cold to leave men outside. Besides, the carriage was in the barn, they were positive that no one had followed them so there was no reason for them to be attacked.

The house was quiet; everyone had gone to sleep rather early, the hosts included. Food had been left in the kitchen for the soldiers. Porthos was eating most of it to keep from falling asleep. He had one more hour to wait before one of the Musketeers asleep in the living room came to take his place.

There was a crack behind him and he turned around, his hand on the pommel of his sword.

"Your Majesty," he saluted when he saw it was the Queen at the bottom of the staircase. She was wearing a nightdress and a heavy robe on top. Porthos could not help but notice how her stomach stretched against the fabric of the dress. He averted his eyes to her face. "Can I be how any assistance?"

"I cannot seem to find sleep which however, does not seem to be a problem for my maids."

"Should I go wake one of them?"

"Not at all, thank you. They are as shaken as we all are. They deserve to rest. Could you bring some food, though?"

"Of course, your Majesty. Have a seat. I will be back." He bowed, leaving hastily for the kitchen.

The Queen put a loving hand on her stomach, the child kicking inside. It warmed her heart, at least he seemed to be content and out of danger. She gazed at the soldiers asleep in the big room. Most of them were on the floor, using only their capes as blankets. It must not have been comfortable. Her eyes swept the width of the living room until she spotted Aramis. He was not sleeping; he was holding the cross she had once given him. He was praying.

After a minute, he realized he was being watched so he stood up, coming in her direction.

"Are you feeling unwell?"

"I cannot seem to fall asleep. I keep imagining what could have happened if it had been our carriage attacked. It would have been awful." Aramis saw how her hands clutched her stomach, protecting the baby.

"But it was not, your Majesty. You are both safe and sound. Nothing will happen to you as long as we are with you. I promised, didn't I?" He smiled, but she could not reciprocate the gesture.

"Going to Saint-Germain was a terrible whim. The King will never forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive because nothing happened to you, your Majesty. He cannot blame you for wanting to rest while you are expecting."

"The Dauphin could have been injured or worse." Her voice quivered.

"He was not. He is here with us. He's sleeping as soundly as possible. I am sure he did not even notice we were in danger."

Aramis was not certain she was listening to him. There were tears in her eyes threatening to spill and her body was slightly shaking.

"I could have lost him. The King will be furious. He will say it's my fault."

"Your fault for what, your Majesty? Listen to me: nothing happened. Nothing. I would rather die than see anything happen to you or your son. I've said it before, do you recall?"

She nodded, her arms circling her waist. A lone tear rolled down her cheek. It took everything Aramis had in him to not reach and wipe it away. She was not the Queen anymore, but a mother worried for her children. Her husband frightened her so much she was blaming herself for imaginary misfortunes. He gave her the handkerchief he kept in one of his pockets.

"Here, your Majesty."

"Oh, Aramis..." she whispered, taking it but not doing anything with it. "I am alone, so alone."

"Her Majesty is wrong. You have your son and you have us to keep you safe. You are not alone."

She looked up at him, her vision blurred by the tears. The one thing she needed went against the protocol, but she could have died today. So she took a step toward the Musketeer and put her head on his chest. She needed comfort and warmth. Aramis was taken aback, with no idea of how to react.

"You said you were my friend, didn't you? Hold me tight, please."

It would not have done to deny such a request. Her courage and her firmness had dissolved after the attack, she needed to be fixed. Aramis carefully put his arms around her.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter XXXIV

Aramis did not know how strong and reassuring he could make his embrace. He knew the Queen would not have minded anything, but they were not alone in the house, even though everybody sounded asleep. No matter how hard he was trying to ignore it, her stomach was pressed against him. Would it feel the same with Elise? When he had left his wife the previous day, taking a long look at her to remind himself how her body looked, you could barely have said that she was pregnant. In spite of his duty, the Musketeer was longing to return to her side.

"Perhaps you are right. The King may not be so furious after all," the Queen said after a while. Her body was not shaking anymore, she was slowly coming back to her senses.

"He will be grateful you and your children are safe."

"Thanks to his Musketeers. Thank you, Aramis."

"We were only doing our duty, your Majesty."

"You know what I mean." She looked up, drying her eyes with the handkerchief. He nodded.

Heavy footsteps came in their direction and she took a few steps back, leaving the warm embrace of the soldier. Porthos had returned with some food.

"I hope it is enough for her Majesty." He motioned to the trail in his hands, overflowing with any item he had found in the kitchen. How could he know how hungry she was?

"Thank you. Bring it upstairs." Porthos started up the stairs followed by the Queen. She wished him a good night when he set the trail in her bedchamber.

Coming down to the entrance of the house to resume his watch, he saw Aramis leaning against the wall.

"I cannot sleep. I can take over if you want."

"Keep me company instead or _I_ will fall asleep," Porthos muttered, stifling a yawn. They remained in silence for a few minutes before he could not contain it anymore and had to ask. "What was that about?"

"What? The Queen was hungry, you gave her something to eat."

"Do not take me for a fool," the other growled. "What were you doing?"

"Talking."

Aramis did not look up until his friend was so close to him he had no other choice. Portho's eyes were dark and angry.

"Aramis..."

"I am telling you the truth. I asked her if she was feeling well when you were gone. We were talking. Is that a crime now?"

"She was in your arms. _The Queen_ was in your arms. In which language does it translate into 'talking'?" Porthos was seething. Surely, his friend could not be that stupid. The other remained as calm as he could. At least he was lucky it was Porthos who had witnessed the embrace.

"She was distressed and she started to cry. What was I to do?"

"Tell her that we were doing our maximum to protect her."

"I did, but it was not efficient. She asked me, Porthos. Who do you think I am? Do you really believe I would go around hugging the Queen for no reason?" he challenged. It would have been true a year ago and it was surprising to realize that he no longer had this type of feelings for her Majesty. Porthos stared at him in silence. "You would have done the same thing if she had asked you."

"I don't think so," he scoffed. "If I did not know you better, Aramis...You are lucky it's me and not one stupid maid who would go around making up stories." Porthos shook his head, deciding to believe his friend's story.

Without another word, he took his position by the front window, his eyes strained outside. They did not say another word until Porthos left to rest. The Queen had been scared and, being a human being before anything else, she had sought comfort. In his heart, Aramis was aware that she would not have asked anybody else to hold her in their arms. He also knew that he should have refused to do so as it had, indeed, been dangerous. Nevertheless, he could not turn his back on someone who was hurting.

They had to leave this house as soon as possible. The close proximity of all its inhabitants could become a source of problem.

* * *

At first light the next morning, two Musketeers were sent back to Paris with a letter for Captain Tréville. The others were left to wait for the new orders. When she came down, the Queen only wished to be back on the road as fast as possible. Her safety could not be jeopardized so Athos explained with all his diplomatic skills that her wish could not be granted. It angered her for about two minutes.

Arrangements were made in the house. All the Musketeers' equipment was put out of reach. The Dauphin was walking everywhere, holding Marguerite's hands. Everything he saw amazed him and he would have certainly attempted to touch a sword or a pistol if they had been left within his sight.

The governess had not completely recovered from the attack, yet, her duty was more important and it brought her comfort to look after the heir. He was laughing and pointing at everything new. The white ground outside was of particular interest. He spent a long time by the window, his tiny hands pressed against the glass, watching snowflakes fall. He hardly went outside the Palace when he was in Paris. There was so much protection around him there that this unfortunate interlude was welcomed by his mother.

The Queen paced in the living room, unable to settle down. She was anxious to know Captain Tréville's answer and she was also ready to go against it. Going back to Paris would not be permitted. Saint-Germain was the place where she wanted to be to give birth. It was not often that she could spend so much time away from the King and she had no intention of giving up the opportunity easily.

The Countess was trying to make conversation with her as it was expected from a host. Unfortunately, the Queen did not have a lot to offer to contribute to the dialogue. They were talking about poetry and she could not concentrate. There was much agitation around them. Wherever they went, there were men in uniforms. Most of them were idle. They were trying to make as little noise as they could, but old habits were hard to restrain.

Athos suggested that her Majesty retire to her bedchamber after there was a commotion in the dining room and it startled her. Being alone in such a small room was a prospect far less appealing than the soldiers' laughter. She declined it. Watching her son toddle happily, discovering new objects, was the best distraction. She had not seen Aramis at all. Although she wondered where he was, she was glad he was keeping his distance.

The Dauphin clearly remembered him from the many nights he had come to the nursery. For the past months, after they had agreed to not speak in front of him anymore, there were nights when the Musketeer would simply keep watch in the nursery corridor. Then, there were nights when the Queen would dismiss the nurse or the governess as she often did, and Aramis would be allowed inside his son's bedchamber. Although they hardly spoke during these times, the Musketeer had taken to play with his son when he could not sleep. His face was known more than it should and the child even remembered his name.

It was dangerous, oh so dangerous. It could not be said that she had not tried to stop it because she had. Everything was fine when they were in a normal and familiar environment such as the Louvres. They knew how to behave around each other, they knew the ways of the Palace, and Aramis hardly ever saw his son during daytime. Here, though...They had to leave as quickly as they could. The Queen dreaded the mistakes the Dauphin could innocently make.

* * *

They had lit candles in the entire house to make it as welcoming as possible. Porthos was entertaining the Dauphin with magic tricks. The little eyes went wide when the coin which used to be in the Musketeer's hand disappeared to reappear behind Marguerite's ear.

"How do you do that?" the governess asked in wonder, as impressed as the toddler was.

"A magician never reveals his secrets. I am glad you enjoyed it," he added to the heir who was smiling and clapping his hands with delight. The Queen had seen many conjurers do this trick at parties and mascarade balls, but it always impressed her. "May I?" She nodded to give her assent.

"Look very careful, your Highness. Here it is..." Porthos showed him the coin before putting it in the palm of his hand. "And now...whiff, it's vanished!" He opened his hand to show it was empty. The heir's mouth opened without a sound. "Where is it? Oh, I think I've found it." Porthos touched the child's ear and suddenly, he was holding the coin.

The Queen could not help laughing when her son touched his ear in amazement, wondering how the coin had arrived there. He clapped his hands even louder, giggling so much that he lost his balance and lay down on the carpet. Marguerite hurried to sit him up again.

"That's amazing, Porthos," she congratulated him. "Where did you learn this trick?"

"When I was younger," he simply answered. She did not need to know where he had spent his childhood. "I can show you another one, if you wish. I'll need some cloth, a piece of lace or a handkerchief."

"Will this do?" The Queen handed him a black handkerchief. The tricks were greatly entertaining for her as well.

"It's perfect, your Majesty. Now, look." He wiggled it in front of the Dauphin's eyes, then closed his fist and pushed the cloth in it. "Magic!" he exclaimed, opening his fist. The handkerchief had vanished as well.

"Oooooh," the baby said, extending his fingers to touch the dark skin of Porthos' hand, where the miracle had happened.

"Perhaps we should hire you to keep my son entertained at the Palace." The Queen was smiling tenderly at the baby when the musketeer raised his head. As he was about to decline the offer, horses were heard outside.

"They're back!" Athos said, striding in the living room. There were at least ten soldiers dismounting in front of the mansion. A couple of minutes later, d'Artagnan and Aramis entered the room. They seemed out of breath.

"What news from Paris?"

"The Captain will not go against the Queen's wishes," Aramis explained, taking off his hat. He was breathing heavily. It had been a long time since he had covered such a great distance in only one day. It almost felt like he had been the one riding and not the horses. They were thankful they were able to changes mounts at the Garrison or they would have never made it back to the countryside.

"You brought reinforcements."

"All the Musketeers they could spare at the Palace. Red Guards will assume the King's protection until her Majesty is safely in Saint-Germain."

"What about the King? Has he said anything?" the Queen demanded, anxious to hear about her husband's reaction. Aramis briefly looked at her to reassure her.

"He does not know it yet, your Majesty. Captain Tréville deemed it wiser to wait for you to be safe at the Palace to tell him the entire story."

She remained focused and dignified, but she felt strongly relaxed by this new piece of information. Athos decided there was no point in leaving before morning. They would spend a second night at the mansion, the Count agreeing to it at once and sending word for a suitable dinner to be prepared.

The Dauphin was left to play with his governess since Porthos gathered with the others around the table to study a map of the area. They had to decide which road they would take this time, and what strategy they would adopt. The Queen hovered by, wishing to take part in the discussion, but not quite knowing what useful information she could provide.

"If we have more soldiers and only use one carriage, it could be safe to take the same road."

"I agree with Aramis. At least this one was wide enough. What is the state of the others?" Athos asked the Count.

"The one you were on is the best around here. The others are no more than dirt paths. A carriage never goes very fast on them."

"But what proof do we have that these bandits will not attack again?" d'Artagnan chimed in.

"Ghosts cannot hold a pistol."

"Of course. Other bandits, I meant."

"We are many more than yesterday. Aramis killed two, I managed to kill three by myself. If we are twenty, I'd say whoever comes to attack us will not stand a chance."

"So we have two choices," Porthos summed up. "Either we risk taking the same road or we take a less noble one and we risk prolonging the journey, which could be more dangerous. I say we take the better road."

"Agreed," Athos seconded. Aramis nodded to show his approval.

"It's settled then. We will have to go this way until we reach the main road. It should take no more than one hour and then, straight to Saint-Germain. No halt." Porthos followed the path to take with his finger on the map. Aramis noticed the handkerchief stuck in his jacket sleeve.

"That's mine. Buy your own." He snatched his belonging, pocketing it.

"No, it's not yours. It was given by..." He didn't finish his sentence. The Queen had her back turned, looking out of the window, hands on her stomach. Porthos narrowed his eyes at his friend.

"Well, if we have made our decision, I suggest we get some rest. I am exhausted!" Aramis yawned, stretching his arms above his head. As he was leaving to find a quieter place to relax, Marguerite stood up from the sofa.

"Thank you for yesterday." Her voice was warm and she looked really grateful. The Musketeer bowed his head. "You saved my life."

"I was not alone. I will take your gratitude nonetheless."

"Why do Musketeers always have to be so humble? It is as if you do not recognize how important your actions are."

"You should thank Porthos, then. I think you will soon find that not all of us are as humble as you might believe."

"I heard that, Aramis," the other muttered. The governess laughed quietly.

"Nevertheless, thank you Aramis."

"You're welcome."

He was halfway out of the room when the Dauphin started calling him back.

"A-mis? 'mis, 'mis, 'mis!"

It broke his heart to have to keep on walking. Acknowledging it meant dooming both of the baby's parents.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter XXXV

The Musketeers were making sure everything was ready for the journey. Even if it was dawn, the sky was various shades of grey. D'Artagnan was helping the Count's valet load the royal carriage. Athos was discussing matters with the Queen while Aramis was preparing the horses in the stable.

"I need to ask you something."

"Of course. First, you put the saddle _on_ the horse, then you..." Porthos stopped his friend in the middle of his jest, grabbing him by the collar so they were face to face.

"Enough with your nonsense." Aramis broke free, soothing his jacket.

"What has gotten into you, Porthos?"

"Your handkerchief."

"My..." Aramis burst out laughing, a reaction that the other did not seem to appreciate. Porthos clenched his fists. Aramis looked at his face intently, trying to decide if he was being serious or not. "Have you had too much to drink?"

"I am completely sober. I want to know why _your_ handkerchief was given to me by the Queen."

Aramis resumed saddling his horse. The entire situation was getting out of hand. He had deemed himself lucky when nobody truly realized the Dauphin was talking about him the previous day. After all, he was a baby and his words hardly made any sense. If only Porthos had not surprised him and the Queen on the night they had arrived, everything would be under control. The Musketeer wanted to beat himself for making a stupid mistake such as taking his handkerchief back.

"She's the Queen and you are married, Aramis."

"I fail to see the link between a handkerchief and my marriage."

"Yes, embracing the Queen at night and offering her your handkerchief are perfectly innocent actions. Everybody would do it." Porthos' sarcasm barely hid his anger.

"Listen, I already told you she was distressed and crying. I was not going to let the Queen be further embarrassed," Aramis said between gritted teeth. He could not, he would not, let his friend figure out his secrets. If he had to lose Porthos' trust in the process, then so be it, even though he hated the mere thought of it.

"Which is one of the reasons why we serve her. Porthos, d'Artagnan requires some assistance outside," Athos ordered, joining the others. He was looking pointedly at Aramis. If he could have punched some more sense into him, he would have gladly done so. Porthos left the stable, anger radiating from his body.

"This is getting out of hand, Aramis. You need to put an end to it now."

"Don't you think I am aware of it?" the Musketeer muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Perhaps things will improve when we are at the Palace, though. The situation here was a little particular."

"Nothing will improve, don't you understand? You keep on making stupid and careless mistakes! You almost make it look like you want to be discovered!"

"I don't! I swear, Athos."

"Porthos is this close to understanding it all. This close," the older spat, taking a step forward. Aramis backed away against his horse. "You have to tell the Queen you cannot see the child anymore or he will condemn you both, 'mis." The way he said his name, mimicking the Dauphin, hurt Aramis. His friend was right, but it was too painful to actually acknowledge it.

"I can't, Athos, you know I can't do that."

"Yes, you can, and you will! Your wife is expecting a baby and this child will not grow up without a father, even if I have to chain you down for the next six months! My God, Aramis! Think of your family. Your_ real_ family."

He left as quickly as he had arrived, leaving his friend astounded. The choice was so clear and Aramis had to admit that he had always known it would happen. He had only hoped it would be a few years before his heart had to break in two.

* * *

This time, the journey to Saint-Germain was uneventful. Everybody was rather nervous and not a lot of words were exchanged between the Musketeers. It was a relief for them all when the Queen and the Dauphin were safely inside the Palace. They covered the grounds with the regular guards, checking every entrance as it was expected of them. The routine was quickly executed and they were able to retire to the soldiers' quarters. They were to spend the night there before most of them returned to Paris.

Aramis was lying on his campbed, eyes closed. Athos was right, of course he was right. He loved Elise, she had changed his life for the best, but it did not mean that having to cut all intimate links with his son had to be easy. Although it sounded wrong to even think about, it was the only sensible thing to do. He would always see him from afar, keeping watch silently, just like all the other Musketeers. The boy would forget that once, a simple soldier used to play with him. He would forget he used to call his father "'mis". He would grow up to be a handsome prince, a handsome heir, and he would still call the King "father." In the mean time, Aramis would become a father for somebody else, somebody who did not deserve to be put in danger.

He sat up straight, looking around the room. Athos was nowhere to be found. d'Artagnan was sharpening one of his knives, and Porthos was staring pointedly at his friend. He clearly had not liked the way their conversation had ended in the morning.

"Will you stop sulking if I apologise?" Aramis eventually asked, breaking the heavy silence. The younger Musketeer looked up from his work.

"Apologise for what?"

"Porthos thinks I'm the Queen's lover."

"Are you?" Aramis rolled his eyes at d'Artagnan.

"Of course I am not!" As far as he was concerned, he was not lying. It had been almost two years since he had slept with her. "What do I have to do for you to believe me? It's not like you can go and ask her Majesty. I doubt she will be as understanding as I am."

Porthos was still saying nothing.

"So you saw something and you misinterpreted it, fine. But do you really think I would threaten Elise's life by doing such a stupid thing? She's the Queen, Porthos. I'd be dead in a second."

Aramis prayed the other would accept it and let it go. Hearing himself say these words actually scared him a little. Everything was becoming too real quite fast. It was foolish to have imagined they could deceive all their entourage without making mistakes. Porthos glared at him.

"A few years ago, I would have said yes. You might have been stupid enough to do it. Now, though..." He took a long look at his friend, standing there in the middle of the room. The old Aramis would have probably considered sleeping with the Queen an option, when the only life that was at stake was his. There were more people involved nowadays and even if he would have never bet that his best friend would end up married, it seemed to suit him. No, he would certainly not jeopardize Elise's life.

"I suppose you have grown up and matured a little."

"So you're good?"

"Yeah," Porthos finally conceded. "But remember what I told you. It could have been someone who did not know you walking on what I saw. Idiot."

"What did you see?" d'Artagnan asked. He did not understand half of what was being said, and it was not to his liking.

"According to Porthos, comforting her Majesty when she is in shock is not an honourable act and it should not be done. Don't give me that look," he added when d'Artagnan looked shocked. "You're the one flirting and doing God knows what with a married woman."

"You cannot compare Constance to the Queen."

"And I will not because there is nothing of the sort between the Queen and I! Look at us, Porthos, arguing like children because of a woman. Seriously?"

"Find me some wine and I'll consider forgiving you stupidity."

Striding in the corridor, Aramis was headed to the kitchen when he crossed Athos' path.

"Where are you going?" he asked suspiciously. The other was growing tired of being watched over.

"I quite appreciate the fact that you are so worried about me but you need to stop. I've had enough. My life is complicated enough without having you serve as an overprotective father. I'll be fine on my own. On the other hand, I could give up getting some wine if it upsets you so." Athos almost smiled at his snapping tone.

"Athos?" Aramis added as his friend was letting him pass. He turned around. "I'm going back to Paris with the others tomorrow." Athos nodded slightly, his face as stoic as ever. Everybody would benefit from this wise decision.

* * *

Elise was watching her brother practise some fencing moves against one of the stable boys at the Garrison. They had to be about the same age and a friendship seemed to have been struck between them. She was glad Christophe was becoming used to his life in Paris. It worried her to see how awkward their moves were and she wondered who would be the first one injured.

"You should not stay outside in the cold," her uncle warned her as he stepped out on the balcony.

"It drives me mad to stay indoors all day. I need some fresh air once in a while. Besides, it's not snowing anymore and I find watching them rather entertaining."

Her brother slipped on the wet ground, falling head first. He turned on his back, spitting out muddy snow. The other put the tip of his sword to his throat, clearly the winner. Captain Tréville shook his head.

"He will get better. He simply needs more time."

"Do you really want him to be better at fencing? Do you see your brother as a soldier?" She considered the question for a moment.

"I don't know. It has taken some time but he seems to enjoy staying here with you, which is already a victory. Your military routine certainly helped improving his character. Would he make a good soldier?"

"That's hard to say. Perhaps. He still whines too much for my liking but then again, so does d'Artagnan and he is one of the best in the company."

In the courtyard, the two young men had resumed fighting, Christophe looking a little more tense and angry at having lost the first round. Each of his attacks was less thought-through and more aggressive. He lost this second duel as well. Tréville kept on shaking his head until he decided to go down and teach his nephew some more useful moves.

Many riders entered through the Garrison gates some time later. A large smile spread on Elise's face when she recognized Aramis among them. He exchanged some words with her uncle then he looked up and noticed her.

"How are you?" she asked, his arms around her, warming her with his embrace. He kissed her hair. She had to be frozen, standing outside in such a weather. There was so much he wanted to tell her, so much he needed to share, but his secrets had already had a big impact in her life. Did he have the right to burden her with his own sorrow? "Uncle said you were attacked on the road. Are you all fine?"

"Yes, don't worry. Everybody is safe and well."

"Let me look at you." She raised her head, holding his face with both hands, checking to see if he was telling the truth. He did not look battered or bruised so it was reassuring. She kissed his lips. They were warm and pressing against hers. The soldier always missed her whenever he was gone on a mission. It did not matter if it was for two days or two weeks.

"I've missed you, too," she joked. "How long are you staying?"

"As long as you'll have me."

"Are you serious?" Aramis nodded. Her smile was beautiful and he knew it would keep him sane.

"Yes. There were...complications and it would not be best if I stayed away from Saint-Germain for the time being."

"Complications?"

"Nothing that should worry you, Elise. But enough about me. How are _you_?" He took a step back, holding her at arm's length.

"I'm fine. I'll have something to show you tonight."

"Can't you show me now?" She threw her head back, laughing.

"I doubt you want your friends to see me without clothes on."

"Indeed I do not. What is it?" Aramis asked, hugging her and whispering in her ear. Expecting a baby had made her body even more sensitive to her husband than it was before. Even with her heavy dress and her coat, she shuddered at his close proximity.

"It's a surprise," she whispered back, her lips touching his ear. He all but growled in frustration, making his wife laugh harder.

"I've missed you, woman." He bit her neck playfully and she swatted his arm.

"My uncle is watching, Aramis."

"Yes, Aramis, her uncle is watching," Tréville repeated, much closer than the soldier anticipated. He let go reluctantly. "Now that you've said your greetings, shall we go in my office?"

"Of course, Captain. I'll see you later," he added for Elise, squeezing her hand before following his commanding officer inside the building.

* * *

Author's note: It _does_ break my heart to do this to Aramis, but it was either that or everything was uncovered and I could not bring myself to choose _this_ alternative.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter XXXVI

Elise was setting the table when the front door opened. Her brother often spent the night when Aramis was out on a mission, but these night were most of the time dull. She was delighted to see that tonight it was her husband striding in the house. He did not even take the time to take off his hat that she was already in his arms.

"What is it you wanted to show me?"

"A little patience would not hurt you," she joked, attempting to break free. She was not putting a lot of effort into it and he was not letting go so in the end, Elise simply gave up and put the pile of plates on the table.

"I've been patient an entire afternoon. I deem it long enough."

"So what Constance said is actually true. I should have known better," Elise shook her head, sounding disappointed.

"What did she tell you?"

"According to her, after a few months of marriage, men stop being gallant." Aramis raised an eyebrow, bent down and kissed Elise with all his strength. Her face was flushed when he pulled away.

"It may be true for _her_ husband, but me? Please. I am the embodiment of gallantry, aren't I? If I ever stop being so, feel free to kick me."

"Be careful, I might take you up on that offer."

"I'll expect you to," he winked, kissing her once again. She put her arms around his neck. Aramis welcomed the soothing comfort she was bringing with her embrace. "Very well, Madame. Shall we sit and eat then?"

"One of the first lessons I've learned from you: dinner can be eaten cold. Follow me." Elise grabbed his hand and led him upstairs. He could not help laughing at her dramatic change of mind.

* * *

Aramis was sitting on the bed, his hat in his hands. He was watching Elise unlace her corset and he had to grin when she exhaled a breath of relief. Then she stepped out of her dress to stand in front of him, wearing only her long white shirt. The soldier had never seen a pregnant woman out of a dress before Elise so he greatly enjoyed how her breasts strained against the fabric.

"You're more beautiful than I remembered." Elise stepped closer until she was standing between his legs.

"Wait, you haven't seen everything."

"That is new, indeed," he said when she had also unlaced her shirt and it had fallen on her hips, leaving her chest and stomach exposed. Aramis touched her white skin with the tip of his fingers. They trailed on her belly, feeling the small swell that was not there the previous week. He marveled at all the implications behind this new aspect of his wife's body. Elise brushed out his hair as he kissed her skin.

"That's your baby, Aramis."

"I know. _My_ baby..." It seemed like a lifetime ago when the King announced the Queen was with child and his heart had broken, knowing he could never claim this baby as his own. There had been so many episodes and adventures in his life since then. Only to lead him to today when everything was falling back into place. His wife was in front of him, _she_ was the one expecting his baby now. This was worth fighting for. This was worth making some sacrifices.

He toppled her on the bed, her small shriek soon covered by his mouth. His hands were on her hips. For the first time in a long time, he was afraid he could hurt her.

"You are perfect, Elise," Aramis whispered, the rough skin of his fingers tracing the edge of her cheeks. She closed her eyes to enjoy the moment.

"Hardly so, but I'll take the compliment anyway."

"You are though. You are the best." Elise felt his lips on her eyelids, then on her mouth and on her neck. One of his hands stroked her stomach, making her sigh. Even after all these months, it always amazed her that such a man, such a Musketeer, had agreed to bind his life to hers. She may not be the best, she was most certainly the luckiest.

* * *

Elise was sitting up in bed, a blanket around her shoulders to keep her warm. For the past half hour, Aramis had been lying with his head on her stomach, talking to her belly. She would not have imagined that him, of all men, would do something like this. However, there was such a dedicated look on his face that joking about his attitude would have been out of place. For once, his touch, light as a feather, did not even tickle her.

"Has he moved yet?"

"Not yet. I believe it's too early."

"Soon, though?"

"Yes, probably."

"Good."

He did not see her smile at his impatience, too busy watching her belly intently. It was foolish to think that he would see it grow under his eyes, but it did not bother him. He was prepared to stick to Elise for the next months in order not to miss one single minute of this pregnancy. It was just his luck that Porthos and d'Artagnan were out of town or they would have never understood such a strong dedication.

His heart had not ached as much since he'd come back to his home. If Elise could help him like this in a single day, there was hope that his pain could somewhat heal with time. He still had to share his decision with the Queen, a moment that he was not looking forward to. Making a decision was one thing, voicing it out loud was entirely another. Aramis sighed.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," he lied. He did not want to ruin the moment. "I'm just happy." Pushing himself up, he kissed her quickly. Elise knew him too well. There was still a shadow in his eyes that she saw.

"You said there had been...complications on the road. Do you want to share what it was about?"

"You've always been too curious for your own good, Elise..." The soldier tried to dismiss her offer with a joke but she was having none of it. She was curious _and _stubborn, he knew it all too well.

"We probably would not be married and having this conversation if I had not been." It was a fair point, he had to give it to her. "Let me rephrase it, then: do you _need_ to share what it was about? You know you can tell me anything, Aramis. I might not like what I'm going to hear, but I've come too far to start bothering about that now."

Aramis shook his head, smiling sadly. His hand touched his necklaces out of habit. Would he continue to wear them? He was not so sure anymore.

"When we were attacked, we had to seek refuge at a Count's mansion in the countryside. Everybody was in shock, especially the Queen. We had a small talk at night, like we often do and to make a long story short, Porthos saw us and imagined things."

Elise tensed next to him, fear and anger both starting to rise inside her. Her husband reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze to reassure her.

"I managed to talk him out of it, because it is the truth after all, is it not? The Queen and I have nothing going on. But then, you remember how I told you that sometimes, I am allowed to see the Dauphin when I'm on duty at the Palace?"

She nodded, not saying anything. When Aramis had first explained the arrangement he and the Queen had, it had angered her. It may even have been jealousy that she felt at the thought of the two of them in a room with their baby. She had taught herself to let it go because _she_ was the one Aramis came back to in the end. A few hours in a nursery were nothing compared to entire nights spent in their home. He had never referred to him as "the Dauphin" before, though. Something was not quite right.

"He is young and he is learning to speak. The first time he's said my name, it was amazing, Elise. I'd never thought I'd get to hear him call me. Unfortunately, he's learned to recognize my face as well. The Count's house was rather small and everybody heard him call for me."

Elise's hand flew to her mouth; she had to control herself to not slap him again because his foolishness was going to get him killed. They never talked about the Dauphin, it was an aspect of his life that she preferred to ignore. Tonight was the longest he had talked about his son to her. It was clear that he was proud of his accomplishments and glad to see him grow up healthy.

"Nobody understood him, don't worry," Aramis hastened, pulling her close to him so that her head was resting on his chest. "He's a baby and babies, no matter the amount of blue blood in their veins, barely make sense. But it's become too dangerous. Too dangerous for you, Elise. I love you and our baby, and I cannot put your lives at such risks anymore."

"Will we have to leave then?" There was resentment in her voice.

"Why would we have to? We are still safe, but I have to stop. I will not see him anymore. Not like I used to. I will guard and protect him whenever I will be assigned to. That's all."

Here and then, his heart started to break in two.

"I've chosen you. I could have said no to your uncle, I could have decided that dedicating my life to the heir was more important than spending it with you. I didn't. You are the one for me, and my life will be about you and our family from now on."

Elise breathed out in relief. The decision she did not feel entitled to ask of him seemed to have been taken anyway. Her future looked brighter and safer all of a sudden. Nevertheless, when she looked up to thank him, she had to notice how hurt he was. The last time she had seen such a look was the day she had first slapped him. All these months ago, in the chapel, when she interrupted his prayers when the royal baby was sick.

Her husband was making the responsible choice and choosing her, yet, she could not help but feel sorrow for him. It had to be the most difficult choice of his life. The young woman would never forgive his past actions, it did not mean that she was happy to know his first son would grow up treating him like a simple servant.

She grabbed the back on his neck, pulling his face closer to her own. As his eyes met hers, she gazed at an ocean of misery. She kissed both of his cheeks.

"Thank you, Aramis," she said quietly. The soldier nodded. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." This time, his chest heaved, his arms sneaking around her waist, hugging her fiercely.

"I need you, Elise." He sounded so weak.

"I know. I'm here for you. I love you."


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter XXXVII

The weather was rather mild for the first days of June, yet Christophe was already breathing heavily and sweating under the attacks of his opponent. Even if his fighting skills had improved since his uncle allowed him to pick up a sword, they were not good enough against a soldier who had years of practice behind him. He had to step back to avoid a blow, ducking so that the sword only skimmed his hair. He realized that he had his back to a wall, and that there was no escape route this way. Glancing around, the boy slid to the right, walking round the older man.

"No!" Aramis exclaimed, stopping immediately. "You do not try to escape like this without at least attempting to attack. If you don't distract your assailant, he may very well do this." The Musketeer demonstrated his words, the tip of his sword poking Christophe's side.

"That's because you have _two_ swords", he complained, using his sleeve to wipe his brow. "It's hardly fair."

"Fighting is never fair. Perhaps one day, when you actually win a fight with one sword, I'll teach you how to use two." Christophe glared at him, not satisfied with the answer. There was a carafe of water on a table close-by and he emptied it, half-drinking it, half-pouring it on his head. His muscles ached. "Come on, let's resume."

"We've been practising for at least one hour! Can't we rest for a while?" Aramis rolled his eyes at the whine, one hand on his hip. His own shirt was sticking to his chest and his arms.

"Do you really think your opponent will let you sit down and breathe?"

"At this rate, I'll never face an actual potentially dangerous opponent. You'll have driven me to death by exhaustion before."

"Suit yourself, then. Paul, do you want to show me your moves while your baby friend takes a nap?" The Musketeer asked the stable boy who had been eyeing the practise from the other side of the courtyard. Christophe barely registered the insult; he was becoming used to this sort of provocation which always happened when they were fencing against one another. Aramis was also training him to control his anger.

"Can I?" The stable boy sounded surprised by the suggestion.

"Of course! You might even prove to be a better fighter than my sorry excuse of a brother-in-law."

Paul dropped his shovel to the ground, attempted to clean his hands on his breeches then grabbed the sword Christophe handed him. He was a couple of years younger, but he had been working at the Garrison for quite some time. The Musketeers always spent their free time fencing so he had witnessed many practise lessons. There were some moves and attacks he remembered watching. Performing them was another matter entirely, though.

Aramis was not going easy on him, either. He attacked so fast that the other managed only to parry one blow before he tripped over his own foot and ended up sitting on a small stack of hay.

"Well, it has to be the fastest duel of my life," Aramis laughed, sheathing one of his swords to help the poor lad up. He was about to add another jest when bells started to ring far away, the sound coming closer and closer as more churches were joining in. When those in Notre-Dame rang, it became a joyous cacophony.

"Ah, I believe someone's born."

From the opened gates, they saw people stop in the streets and listen as they were doing, certainly happy at the news but also wishing the bells would cease ringing. Aramis hoped the Queen was fine.

"I'm afraid we'll have to postpone this fight, Paul." The boy did not complain, rubbing his painful backside. Christophe was laughing hard at his friend.

The Musketeer ran up the stairs only to come face to face with Captain Tréville as he entered the corridor.

"I suppose I'll go prepare."

"You suppose well. Orders will soon arrive, but there's no need to wait for them. I'm giving you a few minutes to say good bye to Elise and then I want you back here to go meet the King."

"Aren't you generous, Captain!" Aramis joked, bowing his head but smirking so much that his superior shot him a dark look. "You know you like me, Captain. Admit it."

For the past three months or so since the soldier had come back from Saint-Germain to stay in Paris, he was able to spend a lot of time with the Captain without the three other Musketeers around. When he was not on duty at the Louvres with his Majesty, Aramis was either on short missions or at the Garrison. He helped with Christophe, volunteering to teach him how to fight, an activity that they had been doing every day, either in the morning or at night.

There was hardly an evening when the Captain would not come eat with his niece or that she would come eat with him. It surprised Tréville to realize that the four of them were really becoming quite a tight family.

Aramis and him in the same family; he had to shake his head at this thought. One year ago, he would have never bet on it whereas now...He saw how the man behaved with his wife, how caring and affectionate he could be. The womaniser may indeed have evaporated. Without his friends and with an expecting woman at home, he seemed to have metamorphosed. Some might say the Captain was growing softer, that he would have never allowed such a joke before. He was aware of the change even if it was not such a bad change.

"Get out of my sight before I change my mind."

Aramis laughed, turning around and running once again down the stairs. Elise was waiting for him in front of their house. His heart always skipped a beat whenever he saw her, with her swollen stomach and her dress barely fitting her anymore. She often looked tired these days so he was not looking forward to leaving her side, especially as he did not know when he would return. Her brother would stay with her.

"We're leaving in a matter of minutes," he explained after he had kissed her. Aramis put his hand on her belly, rejoicing in feeling the baby move under his fingers. It always warmed his heart to realize that he was growing inside of her and that very soon, he would finally be reunited with his parents.

"I assumed so. When do you think that you'll be back?"

"I have absolutely no idea, but the King will probably not want to stay in Saint-Germain very long."

"Let's hope you are correct. Travel safe and...good luck," she added, hugging him close. There was no need to ask for what; he knew. Even though it was his duty to escort to King, the Musketeer dreaded going, seeing the Queen, seeing the Dauphin. It would be the first time he'd see him since he had made his heartbreaking decision and he had yet to explain it the Queen. Being away from them had made the transition easier especially as there was Elise to take care of, and her brother too, in a way.

Porthos and d'Artagnan had come back twice during this period. His friend did not seem to resent him anymore for what had happened at the Count's mansion, which was a relief. However, they had gone out for drinks and they had told him how the Dauphin escaped Marguerite one day. He was toddling in the long corridors, learning to run quite fast for a baby. According to them, it was hilarious to watch her look frantically in every nook in search of her protégé. Aramis' heart had bled at the story. On the one hand, he wished he could have witnessed it, but on the other hand, he forced himself to understand he had no right whatsoever to wish for such a thing.

"I love you," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. Elise kissed him lightly.

"I love you, too. Now go."

* * *

The King was in a joyous mood on their way to Saint-Germain. Aramis focused on watching their surroundings and anticipating any attack or problem that they could encounter. It barely prevented him from thinking of what he would do when they would have reached their destination.

The Palace was ready for his Majesty, and he strode to the Queen's bedchamber at once, Captain Tréville and his soldier escorting him until the door. There was wailing heard inside, as well as Queen Anne's soft but tired voice. The King sounded ecstatic when she announced that it was a second son. Aramis had to shudder a little at the news. Secretly, he had been hoping it would be a princess, a baby girl. Girls could not be heirs to the throne. This son was the King's child and if people discovered that the Dauphin was not, it could turn into a terrible catastrophe. It comforted him in his decision. It was a matter of life or death for the Queen's first-born now as well.

The two Musketeers took their leave since his Majesty did not seem in a hurry to leave his wife's side and that there were others guards already on duty. They went looking for Athos and the others, whom they found in the soldiers' quarters, playing a game of cards loudly.

"Have you not anything better to do?" the Captain rebuked them.

"There is nothing to do here, Captain," d'Artagnan answered, whining.

"Athos..."

"For once, I have to agree. The Queen has not left her apartments in days and the Dauphin only goes outside once or twice a day. It leaves us the rest of the day to...well..."

"Be bored," Porthos finished. He threw his cards on the table, yawning.

"I'm sure I can find you more interesting assignments while I am here. For a start, you could go inspect the edges of the park to make sure that everything is in order. Athos, take Lucas and go. As for you...," the Captain added once the two soldiers had left the room. "Since you seemed to enjoy guarding the Dauphin so much last year, why don't you relieve the guards by the Queen's bedchamber?"

Porthos and d'Artagnan groaned simultaneously, not at all pleased by the order which sounded like a punishment.

"What about him?" Porthos asked, pointing at Aramis, who was smirking at his friends' misfortune. "Why does he not go stand in front of a door, taking over from those who've been doing it these past months?"

"Aramis is not here to guard the Queen. He is the King's escort and the only door he will guard is his Majesty's, if need be. _You_ were ordered to keep the Queen safe until she is recovered and ready for the journey back."

"Are you telling us we are not going back with you and the King?" d'Artagnan sounded shocked and extremely disappointed, especially when Tréville confirmed his assumption.

"Tell me, Captain. Do you happen to have another niece I could marry to benefit from such favours?" Tréville glared at him and Aramis burst out laughing.

"Actually, Captain, I'll go keep watch with them, if that's all right. Unless you want me to do something else?"

"I better not find you three doing anything else than standing still in silence if I should decide to check on you. Understood?"

The three Musketeers bowed their head, hurrying in the corridor. Aramis had missed his friends and he strode between them, clasping their shoulders. Despite wanting to go back to Elise's side, a part of him wished the King would decide to spend a couple of days here so he could enjoy their company.

* * *

The King stayed for two days before affairs of state called him back to the capital city. Aramis knew if he had a chance to talk to the Queen, it would be while they were in Saint-Germain. So he made the suggestion that he could stay behind instead of either d'Artagnan or Porthos. After all, it was only fair to them, too. Given that they both spent their time complaining, the Captain agreed to it, anticipating all the boring duties he would give one of them in Paris. They may then stop sulking like children. After a heated arm-wrestling match, Porthos won the right to travel back with Captain Tréville.

Staying behind was difficult for Aramis, though. The first time Marguerite asked him to escort her and the Dauphin in the gardens for their daily walk, he almost told her to go with Athos instead. The boy had grown so much in the last months and his walk was far better than the last time the soldier had seen him. His governess was only holding one of his hands now.

The heir smiled at him, but he smiled at everyone he saw in the Palace. There was no other sign of recognition on his face. The last time Aramis was with him in the nursery was almost five months ago. He was no more than a vague memory now. It hurt, but it was what he wanted, what he was forcing himself to want. The child was healthy, it was all that should matter. It was all that would matter to him now.

At night, when he was not keeping watch somewhere in the Palace, the Musketeer had trouble falling asleep. Handling this problem in Paris had been easy; it was overwhelming here. Athos noticed, yet he said nothing.

A week after giving birth to her second son, the Queen went outside for a walk with her ladies-in-waiting. The weather was becoming warmer and the sun was greatly enjoyable. If she was surprised to see Aramis escorting her with some of his comrades, she did not show it. Thinking of his family, he simply bowed as she passed by him, always averting his eyes whenever she would look in his direction. It may have been rude, he had to become used to new habits in order to distance himself. Once she inquired about his well-being as she often did with the others. He replied politely yet curtly, and this time, she could not hide her surprise at his tone.

The Queen made this walk daily, sometimes with her entourage, sometimes only with one of her ladies-in-waiting. Then, one afternoon, she decided that she wished to be alone for some time so there would be no one accompanying her, except for her escort. Aramis did not have to look at her to understand what she actually desired: he volunteered to go with her. So did Athos, after his friend quickly glanced at him. The older Musketeer glared back, but it was something that had to be done.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter XXXVIII

It was a gorgeous day in the countryside and if Aramis had not been worried about the upcoming heartbreaking conversation he would soon have, he could have enjoyed this walk in the park. The air was filled with floral scents, the fountains were spraying cool water. Athos kept glancing in the direction of his friend as they walked a couple of meters behind the Queen. He dared not talk while she was within hearing distance. For once, it seemed that Aramis was going to follow his advice and cease all intimate interactions with the Dauphin. Yet, one could never be sure.

Aramis did not know how he was going to inform the Queen of his decision without sounding like he preferred Elise to the heir, which was so far from reality. He could never like one more than the other. Out of habit, he reached for his necklaces, but they were not around his neck anymore. Taking them off had seemed like a good start to distance himself. They were still in his pocket, though. Giving them up entirely was too difficult.

After some time, they arrived close to the small chapel where the King's son had been hastily baptised the week before. He would have a proper and more fitting christening in Paris, but royal or not, babies could always die in infancy so some sacrament was a blessed protection.

"I wish to pray," the Queen declared, not looking at her escort.

"Allow us a moment, your Majesty." Athos and Aramis walked past her, going inside to ensure that it was safe. It was small and cool place. It was empty.

They remained at the back by the front doors while the Queen knelt at the altar. Aramis was praying silently as well, asking for courage. The changes he was making would only be complete after her Majesty was informed of them. In a sense, it terrified him. He let ten minutes pass until he decided to step to the front of the chapel.

"Do not do anything stupid," his friend warned him, although he realized it was an unnecessary warning when he noticed how pained yet determined the other looked.

The Queen heard the heavy footsteps but did not turn around. Her hands were still joined, her eyes closed. The sound stopped behind her.

"You were missed these past months," she eventually said. "I was beginning to think you had somewhat taken ill."

"I apologise if I have caused your Majesty any distress."

"I am glad to see that you are well, Aramis."

"Her Majesty should not fret about me when she has a beautiful newborn to take care of."

"I will always be anxious about my most loyal subjects and you are one of the dearest to me."

"You honour me, your Majesty."

"It is but the truth and now that you are with us once again, I hope you will protect my sons as you have always done in the past."

"It is my most important duty."

"Is it a mere duty to you, then?" the Queen asked, standing up to turn around. Her heavy dress was on the way so the Musketeer held out his hand to steady her. When she looked up, she seemed sad. Aramis had made a point to speak with a neutral voice because they had grown too close the past year and it had done them no good at all. He was a soldier, she was his monarch's spouse, and it was high time they behaved as such.

"I'm afraid it has to be, your Majesty. You have given me so much, all these times with the Dauphin. I will never be able to thank you enough for them; I will cherish them forever. However, I...I cannot enjoy such an incredible favour anymore. It has become too dangerous. You may not remember it, but when we were at the Count's house in February..."

"I do remember, Aramis", she cut him off, glancing behind him at Athos. He had turned his back on them. It made no doubt that he could hear what they were saying, at least he was giving them as much privacy as he could. "I remember perfectly. Nevertheless, nobody noticed."

"We were lucky. Luck cannot last, your Majesty. My wife...I will be a father soon, and it's made me realize that if we were to make another mistake, I would doom you, but my family as well. It would be unfair to them."

Aramis was fighting to stop his voice from quivering. The Queen was staring intently at him, taking it all in.

"My son will grow and with time, he will not make these innocent errors. You do not have to choose."

"With all due respect, your Majesty, I do have. I cannot chance it. I will always be the devoted servant I promised to be, looking out for the heir. I am a Musketeer and protecting the future King is our most paramount mission."

"A mission..." She did not like the choice of words, "duty", "mission". There was so much sadness in his eyes, though, that she soon became aware that they did not reflect his real feelings. It broke her heart to see what he was doing to protect all the persons he cared about. For a moment, she actually hated herself because even though her situation was not the best, she would remain close to her first-born. "I'm so, so sorry, Aramis. I wish I could offer some alternative."

"You have tried so hard in the past, your Majesty. You have done much more than I would have hoped. It was truly wonderful, believe me."

"It is not fair to you." She reached out for his hand. Aramis was clutching his hat tightly, his knuckles turning white. His friend coughed behind him, but the Queen did not let go. Instead she squeezed harder.

"I will watch out from afar. The Dauphin will never be safer, I can assure you. It is better for him if we grow apart."

"What about us? I did enjoy being able to speak with you." He knew. There were not many friends she could turn to at the Palace. They had shared moments that belonged only to them, and the Queen allowed herself to be more free whenever they could talk. Changing this was an unfortunate collateral damage to his decision.

"I am only a soldier, your Majesty. You are the Queen. It was never my rightful place. There was this foolish hope in my heart that our arrangement could go unchanged for years ahead. Please, do not be saddened," Aramis added quickly. The Queen looked like she was about to cry. It would do no good if the both of them were to melt down in the chapel. "You have been blessed with two wonderful sons. They should be the only ones worthy of your thoughts."

"Of course. You are absolutely right, Aramis." She managed to smile a little, despite her heart being heavy. Her soldier was making the best decision, the one she had tried to make by keeping him away, failing miserably. Letting go of his hand, she smoothed out her dress, then noticed that her jewelled crucifix was not around his neck anymore. Neither was her locket. It hurt her more than his words. It felt like he was completely walking out of her life, cutting all their bonds.

She was the Queen, though. It would not do to complain about jewellery. Remaining dignified, she straightened up, holding her head high.

"So your wife is going to be a mother as well," she stated.

"Yes, your Majesty."

"You have all my congratulations."

"Thank you, your Majesty."

"I hope your child will be healthy and strong."

"I hope so, too. We should know very soon. It is only a matter of weeks."

"What are you doing here, then?" She did not mean to sound so shocked and Aramis did not mean to laugh. It would take some time to lose the familiarity they had somehow introduced in their relationship.

"My duty is at your side first, your Majesty. I will remain here until you have recovered enough to travel."

"Nonsense. You should be with your wife. Athos!" she called out. The Musketeer walked toward them. "We will go back to Paris as soon as we can. The day after tomorrow will be perfect."

"Your Majesty should not hasten because of me," Aramis tried to dissuade her as his friend bowed to acknowledge the order.

"I am the Queen and this is my decision. It is the least I can do for you," she said softly.

"Thank you, your Majesty." The Musketeer kissed her hand out of respect. They left the chapel shortly afterwards.

* * *

That night, when Athos came back from his patrol, Aramis was not sleeping. Lying on his side on his campbed, his friend noticed the way his body was shaking. Although there was no sound of it, he knew the other was crying. It was probably the first time he had witnessed such a sight.

"You did the right thing," he stated and there was shuffling as Aramis attempted to control his emotions. The bed sank beneath Athos' weight. He had brought a bottle of wine from the kitchen and he passed it to Aramis once he had sat up. The bottle was empty in a matter of minutes.

"I know," Aramis eventually replied. "Still, it does not make it easier."

"Better to suffer for a few months than be sentenced to death for treason."

"You always know how to cheer someone up, don't you?"

Athos glared at his friend, before grinning. It comforted Aramis a little. Life was far from over simply because he had to give up being close to his son. For all he knew, he might have another son in a month.

"Thanks, Athos," he said, clapping his shoulder.

"Don't mention it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to sleep. The Queen is turning the entire Palace upside down because of you and tomorrow is going to be a busy day."

Aramis laughed, rolling over on his back, his hands behind his head. The Queen was such a compassionate monarch, although quite impulsive. If her son grew up to have her character, he would need Musketeers nearby. He intended to be one of those. The most loyal soldier the future King would have in his regiment.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter XXXIX

It would not do to cross the Queen when she gave orders so her wish to head back to the capital city was quickly granted. Two days after taking the decision, she was helped into her carriage with Marguerite, another servant and her two sons. Aramis could not help but worry that the journey would be too much for the newborn prince. On the other hand, he was looking forward to be reunited with his wife. His apprehension was dismissed as soon as they were on their way. The thought of Elise was all he needed to smile and not think about how royal and elegant the heir had looked when he saw him.

The Musketeers were quite attentive on the road, none of them having forgotten the attack suffered on the way to Saint-Germain. Nothing of the sort happened this time. They reached the Louvres early in the evening. They had to make several stops along the way, the baby being often displeased by the uneven road they were on.

Once the royal family was safely inside, their security was handed over to other guards, leaving the three Musketeers and their companions free to head to the Garrison. Reporting to the Captain did not take long and since Porthos was nowhere to be found in the barracks, they assumed he was somewhere else, playing cards.

"I'm not coming with you," Aramis decided after Athos stated he would go find him.

"Very well. We'll see you in the morning, then."

When he reached his house, the front door was closed. It was odd, but not surprising. Elise did not like staying by herself. Since she was not at the Garrison, she was certainly with Constance. Aramis was a bit disappointed.

The feeling faded away as he stepped into their bedchamber to change his clothes. His wife was home, sleeping. Very gently, he sat down next to her, his hand touching her swollen stomach. Aramis bent down to kiss Elise's cheek and the young woman stirred.

"You're home," she whispered, her eyes fluttering open.

"I am."

"Good." The Musketeer laughed quietly when she closed her eyes again, her hand resting on the one he had put on her belly. He lay down next to her, her head on his shoulder.

"How are you feeling?" he asked after a while.

"I've been feeling so tired lately, I haven't even made it out of the house today."

"I'm sorry to hear it. I'm here now so there's nothing to worry about. I'll take care of you." Aramis kissed her lips and he felt them stretch into a smile.

"Have I found myself a servant?"

"Absolutely. You're carrying something too precious. My baby needs his mother to be in the best shape possible."

"I love you, Aramis."

The baby kicked inside her stomach, against their hands. In his heart, his father knew it bet any night he could have spent with the Dauphin. The heir could never truly be his child whereas the one making his presence known would be able to openly call out for him without Aramis fearing any consequence.

"I love you too."

"Can you imagine we've been married for almost a year?" Elise asked. She looked up at her husband who was staring at their hands. He averted her eyes to look at her. The last year had gone by so fast. There had been so many changes in his life that it almost made his head spin. This woman had changed everything for him; she made him realize he could be happy once again. She was giving him a family.

"Time flies when you're in such excellent company."

"I did spend quite a few nice evenings with Porthos while you were away." Aramis raised an eyebrow and Elise smirked.

"Should I go and challenge him to a duel? What has he been doing to you?"

"Nothing that requires such a harsh consequence. He had some very entertaining stories to tell about you. My brother quite enjoyed them, as well." The Musketeer groaned. Elise propped herself on her elbows. She noticed how tired he looked as she traced around his eyes with her fingers.

"Half of what he said is not true."

"How could you know?"

"I know Porthos."

"That's a fair point."

She kissed his forehead, her fingers running through his hair. It was something he rather appreciated, a soothing feeling. It was a relief to be back home. Aramis wanted to stay awake and ask her everything that had happened while he was away, but he was exhausted. Sleep overtook him a few minutes later.

* * *

Elise woke up late in the morning. There was sunshine on her face, but nobody else by her side. It took her a great amount of time to find the courage and the strength to stand up from her bed. Even if she dreaded the actual process of giving birth, she could not wait for her pregnancy to be finished. Aramis was back, though, so it gave her some joy. She had been afraid that he would not return before the birth.

Slowly, she made her way downstairs but the house was so silent, she knew she was by herself. She had slept for too long and even though Aramis had wanted to wait, there were other duties awaiting him elsewhere.

Elise nibbled on a piece of bread, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Food was not something that tasted or smelled appealing to her lately. The sickness was once again part of her routine so she had been content with staying at home these past days. Usually, it was her brother or Constance coming to keep her company. Yet, knowing that Aramis was probably at the Garrison today, it did not sound like such a bad prospect to make the walk. It took her quite some time and when she reached the Garrison's gates, the familiar sounds of fencing and horses comforted her. At least she would have some other sort of distraction here.

Putting one hand on the wall, the young woman watched as Christophe engaged in a fierce fight against Porthos. The older Musketeer was giving him no chance to actually win, yet she was pleased to witness how much her brother had improved. There was some hope for him after all. It was amazing for Elise to realize how much he had grown and changed this past year. He knew he could not outdo the other, still he was putting all his heart in it, barely flinching at the insults raining on him. She would never thank Aramis and his friends enough for their work.

After a couple more minutes, Christophe was disarmed and stuck between the stable wall and the tip of Porthos' sword.

"Not bad," the Musketeer decided, sheathing his weapon and wiping his brow. It was already very hot in Paris. "It must have lasted five more minutes than the previous one. You did quite a good job with this one, Aramis." His friend tipped his hat at the compliment. He was reclining on a chair in the shade.

"You should be careful or else the roles will soon be reversed," Elise chimed in, making her presence known. Porthos dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand.

"I could bet my horse that it will not happen in the foreseeable future."

"I could take you up on that offer," Aramis warned as he stood up to walk to his wife. His eyes roamed her body and her face, quickly examining her.

In the morning, he had woken up a long time before her, his body used to his routine in Saint-Germain. It was dark outside and he had not wanted to wake his wife up so he had stayed in bed, watching her sleep. Her slumber was not as peaceful as his had been. Finding a comfortable position seemed to be an impossible task. Moreover, her face regularly contorted as if she was in pain. It was with a sinking heart that he had not waited for her to awake.

As he looked at her now, she did not seem in such a bad shape. Her hair was longer than he remembered and barely brushed. It was still very pretty, being tied up in a loose braid over her shoulder. However, she was rather pale and he could never be too careful. He had somewhat lost a child already, so he was not going to take any chance this time.

"Shouldn't you be resting at home?"

"It is never a bad thing to breathe some fresh air. I'll be fine. Don't worry." Elise smiled.

"Have you eaten anything? You do not look so good to me."

"I am fine, Aramis. I promise," she repeated. She did not want to alarm him because there was nothing he could do to ease the sickness anyway. There was a lot on his mind already, she reminded herself as she twined her hands around his neck. It was a strange sight for her to see that his necklaces were not there anymore. As far as she could remember, Elise had always seen them on him, up until he returned from Saint-Germain last winter.

The Musketeer held her by the waist, not completely satisfied with the answer.

"Will you stop pestering this poor woman? She told you she was fine!" Porthos shouted from the other side of the courtyard. Christophe was getting ready to start another duel.

"Mind your own business!" Aramis shouted back. "Elise..."

"I want to be with you if you do not have to go anywhere else. I've missed you. Is it such a bad thing?"

"Probably not. I am quite irreplaceable after all," he conceded after a short while. Her smile looked genuine and apart from her white complexion, nothing else seemed out of place. Besides, he would indeed feel better if she was nearby. The soldier bent down to kiss her as fencing resumed behind him. "The King wishes to meet some boatmen in the afternoon so I must accompany him. You know how greatly fond of me he is," he muttered the last part. Elise did recall a few complaints her husband had made about the King's attitude. Even though she did not think it was wise to make them, it often made her feel sorry for Aramis. "You can stay here until I have to leave and we'll find someone to take you home."

The young woman happily agreed and spent the following hours sitting in the courtyard, watching Porthos, Aramis, and eventually d'Artagnan when he joined them, practice against her brother. It was a wonder he could still stand up after all the blows he had suffered. As amazing as it sounded, Christophe actually liked it.

Every time he could rest, Aramis would press her to eat and drink. Elise forced herself to do so, but the pain was almost overwhelming her. She was thankful she was sitting down or the dizziness might have been too much. It was too hot, even in the shade.

She was grateful when Porthos and Aramis packed their things to head to the Palace, leaving her with her brother. Lying down on her bed sounded like perfection to her now.

* * *

The King had rather enjoyed his excursion along the Seine, despite his constant whining that the air smelled putrid and that there were too many flies. The streets of Paris were hardly as healthy as any of the Palaces he occupied. Content with his transactions, he spent the entire ride back talking about his next hunting party. Aramis had to dismount in order to walk by the carriage door so he could hear all the details. There was no precise date yet so he hoped it would not be too soon. For one, he was not looking forward to re-enacting what happened to him during their last hunting party the previous year. Morever, leaving Elise would certainly be too difficult for him, especially these days.

The two Musketeers were thankful to be back at the Garrison, later in the evening.

"You'll have to tell me what happened between the King and you while we were in Saint-Germain. It is almost as if he cannot make a decision without you by his side," Porthos joked as they unsaddled the horses. His friend rolled his eyes.

"I wish he would forget me. It is beyond tiring to have a conversation with him. I never know if I am going to offend him or not. He can be so...unpredictable."

"It is a nice change to see that he is able to appreciate us, though."

"Would you like to switch positions with me?" Aramis asked, laughing when he saw Porthos raise an eyebrow.

"Not for a hundred livres! Absolutely not. I'd rather spend my time drinking and playing cards. Come on. She's made it two weeks without you, she'll make it one more night," he added when he noticed her friend hesitate. It had been months since they were able to go out for drinks together so Porthos was not going to take "no" for an answer tonight.

"I suppose I can come for an hour or two," the soldier agreed reluctantly. Elise was stubborn and if she found out he had declined the offer to be by her side, she might get angry. Somewhat he feared this more than his friend's disappointment.

They found Athos and d'Artagnan sitting at their usual table. After a few drinks, Aramis managed to make himself believe that Elise would be fine without him for the night and his problems were dimmed by the alcohol. There were banter and laughter, ludicrous comments and loud jests. It felt like old times, he decided, sitting back down with yet another bottle of wine.

He had forgotten his first decision to merely stay a couple of hours. Porthos was telling a story about some woman he had met the week before and even Athos could not help but smile at the description he was sketching. Aramis was somehow slouching on the table, laughing every few seconds, much like d'Artagnan was doing. Then, there was someone tucking on his sleeve.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, squinting until he recognized one of his neighbours' sons. "You should not come to such places."

"My mother sent me," the young boy replied, taking in his surroundings. "It's Madame Elise. You must come with me, _Maman_ said."


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter XL

_"__My mother sent me. It's Madame Elise. You must come with me, Maman said."_

The words sobered Aramis at once. He stood up so fast, knocking over his glass. Wine spilled on the tabl, d'Artagnan cursing when it soaked his shirt sleeves.

"What's happening?" he asked the boy who simply shrugged.

"I don't know. Maman sent me to find you and Christophe to find Madame Constance. There were screams."

"Screams?" Aramis darted off after the young boy, the others scrambling to their feet to follow him. Porthos grabbed the hat his friend had forgotten in his haste.

The soldier knew he should have listened to his first instinct and not go out for drinks. His place should have been at home with his wife because he knew that despite everything she could say, she was not feeling at her best. His brisk walk turned into a run and he passed the boy, almost shoving a woman to the ground. D'Artagnan steadied her, apologizing quickly. The panic and fear Aramis felt seemed to have drained all the alcohol from his body. His heart was racing, imagining many incidents which could have happened while he was enjoying himself.

It did not take long for the four Musketeers to reach the house. They all crowded against the front door until Aramis managed to open it. They made quite an entrance into an already chaotic room. Constance was raiding the kitchen, shouting orders to some of Delphine's daughters. The little girls seemed to quite like it as they ran everywhere. Christophe was waiting in a corner, looking lost and out of place.

"What's happening?" Aramis asked his brother-in-law, frantically. "What's wrong? Where's Elise?"

"She's upstairs," Constance answered calmly when she heard his voice. Her head appeared in the kitchen doorway. "It's the baby."

"The baby? What's happened to the baby?" It felt as if his heart had stopped beating. He could not lose this child as well. He could not. He had to hold on to Athos to remain standing. The blood had drained from his face.

"Nothing's wrong, Aramis. Don't worry," she tried to reassure him when she saw how panicked he was. "Your wife is _having_ a baby."

"Oh." The news made him feel better until he realized what it actually meant. "_Oh_." He still had to hold on his friend because this time, he really was dizzy. "Where is she?"

"I told you she's upstairs but don't..."

Constance stopped whatever she was doing to go stand at the bottom of the stairs. Aramis tried to push her to the side, but she could be quite strong when she was determined. She stood her ground.

"Constance..."

"There's nothing you can do up there. Delphine is with her, as is the midwife. Elise needs space so you better stay here with them."

"I need to see her so will you please move?" Aramis demanded, not listening to a word she was saying. "Or I'll have to move you myself."

The woman put her hands on both walls, blocking his way. She was about to reply when there was a scream above their heads. The Musketeer could not stand idle without seeing Elise, or at least let her know that he was home, that he was here for her.

"Excuse me, Constance." He grabbed her by the shoulders and effortlessly picked her up so he was free to take the stairs. Running up, he pushed open their bedchamber's door.

"Aramis...," a dishevelled Elise whispered, her face constricted in pain. A woman he did not know was holding her hands as they both stood up by the bed. His wife was sweating heavily, her breathing laboured. Most of her hair was plastered to her face. After one minute when she appeared to be in a lot of pain, she somewhat relaxed, sitting on the bed. He was on his knees in front of her in a second.

"I'm glad you are here," she said, smiling weakly. There was a cloth lying on the bed cover and Aramis used it to wipe her brow. Seeing her in so much pain was not a happy sight.

"Where else would I be? I'm always here for you."

"I know. I'm a little bit afraid," Elise confessed, lowering her eyes. Aramis rose to his feet, holding her in his arms before kissing her forehead gently. She was trembling. The slight pain had been there for days, yet, when it intensified in the afternoon, she would have never thought it would lead to this. In her mind, it was still too soon. It worried her, especially for the baby. She had heard so many stories about babies being delivered early and dying in a couple of days, if not hours. Her soldier would not be able to take it if it were to happen to them. She would not be able to take it.

"Everything will be fine, my love. Do you hear me? Everything. I wish I could take the pain away from you, though." Aramis kept on kissing her cheeks. Holding her face in his hands, he smiled widely. He was afraid as well, but he dared not show it. One of them had to support the other and for once, it would be his mission. Elise had been his best support lately, it was his turn.

"I love you so much, Elise. I know you will do great. You will be fantastic, agreed? Fantastic." She nodded, her hands clutching his uniform, her head resting on his chest.

The midwife and Delphine tried to make him leave the room after they were done talking. A man had nothing to do in a room where a woman was about to give birth, even if he was to be the father. Constance joined them, carrying boiling water. The two little girls were just behind her, each of them holding some linens. Aramis had no intention to leave at first. If he could comfort his wife by holding her in his arms, he would stay by her side.

Elise cried out once more in pain, the women rushing to her. The Musketeer did then feel out of place since he had no clue what he should do. It sickened him to not be able to lessen her pain. Besides, there were too many people in the room already. Elise needed to breathe. Very reluctantly, he made his way back downstairs.

* * *

In the attempt to take his mind off the occasional screams occurring upstairs, Porthos had suggested that they played a game of cards. He would have gladly asked for wine, too, but Athos shot him such a dark look that he kept the thought to himself. It would not do to have Aramis drunk for the first time he would meet his child. They all clearly remembered how hungover he was on his wedding day.

The four men crowded at the table with Christophe, the father-to-be caught between Athos and Porthos, unable to move. His head would turn to the stairs every time there was a noise coming from the bedchamber. His heart was not in the game, yet he tried to concentrate on the cards. They were doing this for him and he was thankful they were staying with him.

After half an hour, he could not sit still anymore. Instead, he started to pace around the room, worry written all over his face.

"Will you stop that?" Porthos complained after some time. "You are giving me a headache."

His friend sighed, but stopped, leaning against a wall. Instinctively he reached for his crucifix, wishing to hold it close, only to remember he did not wear. Despite the memories it brought, it would have been a great relief in such a moment. Prayers were running in his head, asking God to keep everyone safe and well.

There was a louder pained scream quickly followed by Constance coming down the stairs, not paying them any attention as she headed to the kitchen.

"What's happening?" he asked, following her.

"Nothing new. I just need some more supplies." Aramis did not believe her, and it was making him angry to be kept out.

"Constance, please...I'm going mad. Tell me."

Stopping what she was doing, the woman looked up. She had hardly ever seen the Musketeer at such a loss.

"I promise everything is going as it should, Aramis. It so happens that women tend to be quite hurt and cry out when they are delivering a baby."

"I know, but..."

"Let's go get some fresh hair," Athos decided, joining him in the kitchen. Nothing that Constance could say would make the other feel better. It was doing him no good to stay trapped inside.

The two Musketeers went outside, Aramis still looking behind him, not reassured. He did not like the idea of being farther away from his wife. However, their bedchamber window was open and soon, he could hear Constance's soft comforting words flowing down to them.

The air was cool in the street. Aramis did feel better, breathing in deeply. Athos was not saying anything, but he needed not to. His simple presence was enough.

"You should relax, Aramis. It will not help to be so nervous," Athos advised after the other's head had once again shot up anxiously at another muffled scream.

"I'd like to see you try, if you were in my place. What if something happens to her, Athos? It's been so long already. It should not take so long, should it?"

"I'm no physician. I have no idea. Still, if Constance tells you that it's normal then it certainly is."

"I know...I know... It's not easy to stand there doing nothing while she's in pain. Despite everything, I think I liked the last time better, when we were away on our mission and I had something else on my mind," he stated, his head thrown back against the wall. There was nothing his friend could answer to this that he had not already said in the past. Tonight was not the time to remind Aramis that the Dauphin was not his son. Besides, Athos knew this truth was starting to sink in for the other.

"What if something goes wrong and I lose them both? I can't...I won't be able to stand it. Not after Saint-Germain." Aramis shook his head sadly. He looked so far from the happy-going and carefree soldier everybody was used to seeing that the older one stepped closer. Putting both hands on Aramis' shoulders, he forced him to look him in the eyes.

"You are imagining things, my friend. For all we know, everything will go perfectly well. A lot of babies are delivered every day and most of them end up fine. As do the mothers. Elise is in very good hands. I thought you were the most ardent believer of us all. Where is your faith this evening?"

Aramis let out a small laugh at Athos' attempt to brighten his mood. He hoped God was listening to the endless prayers constantly running through his head. The older Musketeer had never truly forgiven Aramis for his night with the Queen and its aftermath. It had been madness, there still was so much at stake. Yet, he could somehow understand why he was so worried and anxious; he had seen all the trouble it had brought on his friend, how his heart had broken when he had announced his decision to her Majesty.

"You will not lose this one, Aramis. Do you hear me? It will be fine and in a couple of weeks, you will be so tired that you'll actually beg for some peace and quiet. Come one, let's go back inside and find you something to drink."

The other raised an eyebrow. After all, Porthos' same proposition had been vetoed.

"I'm not your father. I suppose that you can control yourself and not be drunk when you'll hold your child. I hope," Athos added in his beard, as they went back inside the house.

* * *

D'Artagnan prompted Porthos to continue his tale of this woman he had met last week while he was on some mission. It lightened the mood as it had at the tavern, and with the added effect of the sweet wine brought on the table, Aramis somewhat relaxed. What his friend had told him while they were outside was reassuring in some sense. Perhaps it was simply impatience and apprehension about what would come after the birth that made him rather anxious. Athos was correct: women had been giving birth the dawn of time after all.

Christophe seemed greatly interested in Porthos' recollection as he craned his neck to hear more details. He may not belong to the Musketeers and they may not consider him as a friend, yet he was accepted among them and no longer only tolerated. The older men decided to offer some advice on how he should behave to attract women, because he was seventeen so it was high time he became a man. Aramis was thankful Captain Tréville was not here to witness such a conversation. The young boy appreciated the attention so much he was about to ask some more questions when there was a louder scream upstairs.

Aramis stood up too fast, his chair falling loudly on the floor. There were other muffled sounds and he wondered if he should go upstairs. He did not want to be an hindrance but it sounded

different this time. It terrified him. His newly found glimmer of hope disappeared.

"Constance will certainly yell at you if you go upstairs," d'Artagnan advised, filling his friend's glass once again.

Bending down to retrieve his chair, the soldier almost sat back down until there were more noises from his bedchamber. A muffled scream and then another which should have been expected but still amazed him. Someone else cried out, someone new. Aramis was at the top of the stairs in a matter of seconds.


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter XLI

The pain had been so excruciating for the past hours that Elise almost did not feel it anymore. Her body was numb, and as she lay on her bed, perspiration soaked the sheet. Her hair was on her face, her knuckles clutching the mattress so tight they were turning white. The midwife was giving soft orders that she was following as best as she could. She only wanted it to end.

It was a relief when the young woman squeezed Constance's hand hard one last time before they heard the baby's first cry. Elise threw her head back against the bed head, exhaling a long sigh. Her entire body hurt. Closing her eyes for a second, a weak smile spread on her face as she listened to her baby's screams. Her friend was grinning as much as she was, happy to see that the newly arrived guest seemed to have a set of quite healthy lungs.

"You seemed to have been quite mistaken, Elise," the midwife explained, her voice sounding far away. "Your baby has arrived rather on time."

At the news, the new mother opened her eyes lazily to see the other woman approach, a moving bundle in her arms. It was gently put in Elise's arms, and she marvelled at how light yet warm it was. Two tiny fists were moving around, some fair hair was barely visible, and her child was still shouting out to the world that there was another inhabitant in Paris tonight.

"Hello, you..." Elise whispered, her finger grazing the soft skin of the person she had to care for. Somewhat, her physical pain had lessened.

There was a commotion outside the door as Delphine opened it to let her daughters out of the room. There was nothing that required their presence or their help anymore. Elise thanked her silently, finding the strength to laugh when she saw four heads appear between the wall and the ajar door. There were her brother, d'Artagnan, Porthos, and her husband, all looking around the room, curious.

"You will not let her have one minute of peace, will you?" Constance complained, rolling her eyes, even though the men's antics were precious. It would always amaze her how such often brutal soldiers could so incredibly soften when their family was involved.

"May I come in?" Aramis asked. Elise saw the look on his face, how it was fixed on her and what was in her arms. She knew that just like he had done earlier, he would not take no for an answer and would probably push his way into the room no matter what. She nodded slightly. His friends opened the door a little more, none daring to come any closer. Aramis approached slowly.

His wife noticed how he was examining them both from afar. His face was so easy to read in that instant. There was plain happiness to see that she was fine, that the baby sounded like it was well, too. Although Elise was glowing despite her pain, it made no doubt that this moment was a thousand times more important for her soldier.

"Don't be shy," Elise prompted as Aramis fidgeted at the bottom of the bed, his eyes fixed on the tiny face barely visible in the white blanket. "Come and meet your son."

At her words, he was on his knees by her side. Very carefully, he raised one trembling hand to the baby's minuscule cheeks and lips. He had settled a little, his cries lessening. Aramis did not dare speak for fear that his voice would quiver too much and he would make a fool of himself. This was his true son, he belonged completely to him. In his heart, the Musketeer had secretly wished for a daughter, much like Elise had done. If the children were to look too much alike, it would have been better concealed if the youngest was a girl. However, now, it still was perfect.

"I hope he'll be as dashing as his father," Aramis managed to joke, standing up to kiss Elise. He felt her smile against his lips.

"With some of his mother's senses and brightness."

"The latter is more likely!" Porthos chimed in. The new parents had forgotten they had an audience, but did not seem to mind.

"I cannot wait to have him humiliate you, then," his friend shot back, smirking. Everybody laughed at the jest, even the one who should have been offended by it. Tension was gone for everyone. "Come on, godfathers." He motioned for them to come in, an invitation that the two other Musketeers accepted gladly.

"You did a fine job."

"Thank you," Aramis and Elise answered d'Artagnan's compliment simultaneously until they realized it was not directed at them but rather at Constance. She was enveloped in the young man's arms as he kissed her. She did not mind one bit. The others focused on the baby who was making his presence known even more.

Elise rejoiced in the feeling of the little boy in her arms, holding him so close it almost felt as if they were going to make one once again. She had no experience with infants at all, but it did not matter. Her heart was telling her everything that she had to do. The fear she had experienced these past months and hours had vanished, leaving room for bliss.

"How are you going to name this charming gentleman?" Porthos inquired, hovering near his best friend. The closest he had come to a newborn was with the royal babies so he had no idea how to react. He was pleased that Elise was not injured any further, pleased that Aramis looked so delighted, but he failed to see what else he could say. "I believe that a strong and powerful name should suit him perfectly."

"Is that so? And does this kind of name happen to be Porthos by any chance?"

"I would not have offered it myself, but since you insist..." The Musketeer smirked at Aramis' question.

"Unfortunately, you only are his third godfather, so I am afraid it would not be proper." Aramis cocked his head, answering with a similar smirk.

It was comforting for Elise to see that they could joke around each other and there appeared to be no animosity between them. She remembered too well what her husband had told her during the winter, when Porthos was so close to figuring out the other's secret and how they had had some heated arguments about it. Everything looked like it was forgotten, which was for the best.

"I may be the third one, I am still the only one paying any attention to him." Porthos gestured toward d'Artagnan, too deeply focused on Constance to hear what was being said.

"Where's Athos?" Elise asked, tearing her eyes from her son to realize the older Musketeer was not with them.

"Certainly finishing the wine to celebrate."

"Thus giving them some space and showing that he is more sensitive than any of us," Constance stated. "This room is crowded and it's making the babe uneasy. Everybody out. Shoo!" she commanded.

Aramis sat precariously on the edge of the bed once they were alone. He was itching to have the baby in his arms, to fill the void in his heart by having a new light weight pressed against his chest. Instead, he smoothed Elise's hair out of her face, gazing into her tired eyes as she looked up at him.

"Your father's name?"

"My father's name," Elise agreed. There was no need to ask the question, they had always known it would be this way. The young woman wished with all she had that her parents were with her to share such a wonderful event. They could not, and although she would never make her peace with this idea, she was determined to keep their memory in her life no matter what.

* * *

Exhausted as she was, Elise ended up falling asleep some time after their friends had left the house and they were finally by themselves. Aramis was absolutely not tired. Instead, he did not let go of the baby for one minute. The little boy mainly slept, yet the Musketeer was used to having a baby in his arms so it did not matter to him. He could easily imagine how his heart would mend thanks to his son. His _true_ son, but never completely the only one. He would never be able to forget the other one.

The soldier eventually fell asleep as dawn was rising, the child pressed against him, only to be woken up almost immediately afterwards by cries which quickly turned to shrills. Athos had to be right: Aramis would soon wish for some peace and quiet. Rocking an infant was something he knew, being awoken by constant cries was not something he had any experience in. After all, standing watch in a Palace corridor was miles away from having to care for your own newborn, so tiny and fragile. There was this gnawing feeling that anything could go wrong at any time, even if Elise and him were constantly with the baby.

Aramis did not ask permission to stay at home the next two days. As far as he was concerned, he did not care one bit if it brought him trouble to fail to report to the Garrison. As a matter of fact, the Captain did not even mention his absence the day he stumbled in, his face displaying how tired he was. Elise had been the one showing enough common sense to urge him to take on his duties again. Truth be told, the Musketeer was almost glad, knowing that there was the chance for him to catch some sleep while he would be over there.

"You look dreadful!" Porthos exclaimed, not sounding sorry at all for his friend. Aramis only glared as he slid down on a bench in the courtyard, his head falling on the table. The place was by no means quiet, yet, these noises were more familiar and he never had any problem dozing off there in the past. The clashes of swords, the neighing of horses and the loud conversations caught the best of him.

"Should we let the baby sleep?" a mocking voice asked in the distance. To Aramis, it seemed that he had only closed his eyes for a few seconds. Someone was poking his arm. Raising his head, he realized that the sun was so high in the sky, he must have been out for a couple of hours. Porthos was still laughing at his friend's expense, his fork repeatedly hitting the other's arm.

"Stop it," Aramis mumbled, shaking his arm free. Blinking, he saw the Captain looking down at him, which made he sit up straight. "Sorry, Captain."

"If you're all quite ready, there are new assignments awaiting you." Not waiting for an answer, he walked back up to his office, the four Musketeers close behind. Aramis had to endure the others' endless teasing.

"I would like to see how you would both handle it if you were in my situation," he eventually challenged after d'Artagnan and Porthos would not stop snickering. True to himself, Athos was silent and not taking part in the mocking.

"You're the one who decided to get married and have children, not us! You brought this on yourself!"

"I suppose you will not be joining us tonight either?" the youngest man inquired.

"It depends. Do you plan on going to bed early some place quiet?" The question triggered more laughter, Aramis going along with it. It was better to laugh at his current situation rather than complain too much since it would not improve matters.

"Shame on you, willing to abandon your wife to herself!" Porthos shoved him in the shoulder, Aramis retaliating until they were at Tréville's door and had to behave like proper soldiers.

* * *

To Aramis, it seemed that the King talked about his next hunting party months ago. Actually, only four days had passed and the weather this summer was so gorgeous that it would have been shameful to delay it any longer. The hunting lodge in Versailles was still being under too much construction to host such a large entourage as the one expected. His Majesty had set his heart on Fontainebleau, a Palace much further away from Paris, yet a lot bigger and with such a magnificent forest surrounding it that they were bound to make many kills.

"But we have only been back in Paris for a few days," d'Artagnan whined. He wished he could have spent more time with Constance.

"The King has decided that the Dauphin was old enough to start riding lessons so the entire royal family is coming. You could very well be assigned to watch over the youngest prince and her Majesty if you think escorting the King while he's hunting is too much of an hindrance."

"What I actually meant, Captain, is that I _cannot wait_ to be back on the road," the Musketeer added quickly. Tréville shook his head.

"He intends for the Dauphin to start riding?" Aramis could not help but sound afraid. The feeling seemed to be shared by the others so it was quite safe. "He's not even two years old!"

"Would you like to tell his Majesty you so strongly disapprove of his decision?"

"Absolutely not. I would not dare."

"Wise choice. You four will just have to make certain no accident happens or else I would not rate our chances of survival very highly."

Aramis bit his lip. How ever true it was that he could not voice his concerns to his King, it did not make it easier. How was he going to be able to concentrate on protecting the monarch if he knew the heir was in danger? It did not matter that he had decided not to have more private moments with him. He had promised his mother to always watch over him and it was one of these moments when he would more than gladly do so. That the Queen had agreed to such a decision was beyond his understanding, although for all he knew,she may not even have been consulted.

"When are we leaving?" Athos asked.

"It takes more time to prepare Fontainebleau for a royal stay so we've managed to have his Majesty await until the first weeks of August. He asked you to meet with him at the end of the week, Aramis."

"Aramis, special advisor to the King!" Porthos joked, his superior and his friend both shooting dark looks in his direction.

"What could he possibly want with me this time?" Knowing he was about to leave the capital city for some time, he would have preferred to spend as many hours as he could with his family.

"God only knows. But since he seems to have taken a liking in you, you will do as he says. It's not very often that he shows such interest in our regiment these days."

"I sure hope he does not expect this one to teach the Dauphin how to ride. Last time he was out hunting, he ended up spraining his ankle."

Aramis slapped the back of Porthos' head, which did not stop him from jesting and reminiscing on last year's unhappy adventure in Versailles. One part of the soldier actually wanted to be the one commissioned for such a task, though. What better way to make sure everything was safe? Coming to terms with his decision was proving to be trickier than expected.


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter XLII

Elise was strongly displeased when Aramis announced that he would have to leave Paris for the countryside. Despite knowing perfectly well that her husband was more often on missions than with her, she had grown used to having him around in the spring. Truth be told, he did not look too happy to have to be far away from her and the baby. At least they had had three weeks to themselves before he had to escort the King.

"Your brother could come and stay with you as he did last year," Aramis suggested one night when they were both awake, the baby sucking hungrily on his mother's breasts.

"It would not be fair to make him endure sleepless nights. I can take care of Mathieu by myself, can't I?" she cooed, her fingers smoothing the hair on her son's head.

"I have to endure such nights and you don't hear me complaining about it."

"That's only because you're smart enough not to," Elise flashed him a brilliant smile. "Dare tell me you are not a little bit glad you will be able to sleep without being woken up every few hours."

A sheepish look on Aramis' face revealed that yes, he had indeed thought of such a prospect.

"It does not mean that I will gladly spend weeks away from you both."

"I'm only asking you to not break your leg simply to come back early, Aramis."

"The idea had not even crossed my mind," he promised, one hand pressed to his heart. The baby sounded like he had finished eating as he started to grow uneasy. His tiny fists were balled and his face crunched up. Elise tucked him in his blanket passing him gently to the soldier so she could straighten her clothes.

Aramis had always been good at quieting babes, and as he rocked his son and sang in Spanish, Elise could not help but marvel at the sight.

"When you said you were good with babies, I did not expect it to be that amazing." He smiled cheekily at the compliment, finishing his lullaby.

"I've had some experience in the past."

"For which I'm quite thankful, to be honest," Elise stated, rising from the bed to stand next to him. She put one hand on Aramis' back, the other close to their son.

"I can even tell you what to do when he'll start to teeth," he continued, sounding rather proud, until a shadow passed in front of his eyes. He remembered having the same parenting conversation with another woman a year ago. It unsettled him a little.

"What is it?"

"I've had this conversation in the past already, that's all." There was no point in tiptoeing around the issue anymore. Elise was blessed with a son, one that Aramis was completely dedicated to, so she understood that from time to time, it triggered memories. Talking was one of the best cures she knew and she was willing to listen to him whenever he needed to.

"Only this time you will actually be around to put your advice to the test." The young woman felt his body relax at her words.

"You're right." Bending his head to kiss Elise's hair, he stopped his rocking movement, which did not make the child happy. He resumed his walking, engraving all these precious moments in his mind. God only knew when he would be reunited with his family.

"Will you be all right in Fontainebleau?" Elise could not help asking. Aramis' situation worried her more now that she was a mother. Despite his promise, everything still gnawed at her heart. The Queen would be there with her children and although he had given his word he would not approach them if it was not required, she had to wonder if he would manage such a feat.

"I will not put his life at risk, Elise. You know perfectly well I won't. I've told you a thousand times that you were more important than anything else. Your lack of faith is disturbing."

The Musketeer was genuinely hurt by her words and she had to make it better. She had not meant to upset him.

"I did not mean it like that, Aramis. It's just that... now that he's with us and I'm a mother, I don't see...I mean, it would kill me to be separated from him more than a few hours. I'm only now starting to really comprehend how heartbreaking and difficult your place is. I could not do it. Simply imagining it makes me panic. You're so brave."

"I don't have a choice. I have to keep you safe."

"And I love you for it, you know I do. I trust you completely. I did not mean to hurt you. Sorry. "

Aramis had sat down on the bed, the baby finally settling down and drifting to sleep. He slowly ran a finger over his soft tiny cheeks, memorizing the feeling. Elise put her head against her husband's shoulder.

"There's no need to apologise. We're both tired, that's all. Everything will be fine for me as long as I think about you and him."

His words were warm and his voice sounded assured. Aramis only hoped he would manage to hold on to his resolve.

* * *

Fontainebleau was a long ride away, the weather was growing extremely hot and the King would not stop complaining. Even though the carriage doors were closed and small curtains prevented the sun from blinding his Majesty, he was not satisfied. Porthos and Aramis were riding in front of the carriage, silently rolling their eyes every time Louis XIII would make a remark.

"I almost wish it would start raining," Porthos muttered. "At least we would not hear any curse towards the sun."

"He would only curse clouds and humidity instead. I don't see how it would be better. Besides, we would be soaked wet," Aramis mumbled.

"I'd take it over all this sweating. Leather may work charms with the ladies, it is not suited for such travels. Rain would be refreshing."

"And there I was thinking that you and I were alike: that we both simply needed our natural qualities to seduce women."

"They come for the uniform and _then_, they stay for the amazing spirits."

"Of course."

Porthos burst out laughing, the deep sound carrying so far behind the carriage that the Red Guards there glared at the two Musketeers who did not care one bit.

"May we one day know the name of this lovely woman who has had all your attentions lately?"

"A Musketeer doesn't kiss and tell, you should know that."

"Excuse you? That's my phrase! How shameful of you to blatantly steal my genius!"

"Oh, right...That's where I heard it," Porthos said thoughtfully, openly mocking his friend. "Back when you were seeing Marguerite. Lord, it feels like ages ago. Elise must be glad you're not wearing her necklace anymore."

"Marguerite never gave me any necklaces."

"Well, whoever it was, she still must be happy you were convinced to give it up. I'm surprised she has not given you one of her own, though. Isn't it how women brand you as theirs?"

Aramis' eyes shot daggers at the other, relieved that he was not pressing him to know who had once given him the locket.

"How about you? Haven't you been given some earrings or bracelet?"

Porthos scoffed, straightening up on his saddle.

"I've not been branded by anyone. I prefer to remain free to enjoy any Parisian lady I wish."

"That's what _I_ used to say, as well. Yet, look at me now."

"This type of miracle only happens once every century. Paris' most infamous womaniser married and with a child. Who would have thought of it? Am I right, Captain?" Porthos raised his voice, calling out to their commanding officer who was riding behind them, close to the carriage. Their conversation had not been kept quiet, they rarely were, so he had heard every word of it.

"Aramis had been behaving himself, you're quite correct."

"Why, thank you, Captain. Do I get some sort of reward for good behaviour?" Aramis turned his head, smirking at the Captain who only shook his head. He had given up rebuking the soldiers for their banter.

"The right to continue on the same righteous path." The threat uttered the day Aramis had asked him for Elise's hand was silently reminded to him as Tréville's hand rested on the pommel of his sword. The Musketeer only tipped his hat, not frightened for a second.

"Tréville?" The King's voice interrupted the conversation. The officer slowed his horse so he would reach the carriage door where his Majesty's head appeared. "It is so terribly scolding hot in here. Are we close to the Marquis' lodgings?"

Fontainebleau was too far away for the escort and the King to reach it in only one day. It had been decided well in advance that they would halt for the night at a Marquis' mansion, conveniently located on the road they were taking.

"We have been making good process, your Majesty. I believe it should not be more than two leagues away."

The small curtain fell back in place, a loud groan reaching the soldiers. His Majesty was not pleased.

* * *

It was early evening when the King and his escort reached their destination. His Majesty disappeared inside the large house as soon as he was greeted by his host, requesting a bath and given orders to anyone his eyes landed upon. Thankfully, the Musketeers had to inspect the grounds with the Red Guards to make sure that everything was safe so they avoided being yelled at.

When they were certain his Majesty would be safe, they were able to retire to the room assigned to them as sleeping quarters. They were all exhausted by the long journey and not willing to travel approximately the same distance the day after. The air had cooled, though and the breeze coming through the open windows was a blessing. Most of the soldiers went to sleep rather quickly, knowing they would have to wake to stand watch at some point during the night.

Porthos had taken the first watch near the King so Aramis was left free to lay on his camp bed, his hand reaching for his crucifix. He had vowed he would never wear it again, but Elise had convinced him to still take it with him. She knew God was his main source of comfort, and despite what this special necklace represented for him, it was a holy object. It would be good for Aramis to have it close by. So, it rested in one of his many pockets.

Taking it out and clutching it in his hand, the soldier somewhat felt better, but not for the same reasons he had the first times, all these years ago. He asked God to give him strength when his Majesty would welcome the Queen and their children at the Palace, as well as the strength to do only his duty and not overstep the boundaries he had set for himself. When it was done, his prayers focused on Elise and the baby, alone in their home. They would be in his thoughts and his dreams, he was certain of it.

Aramis had forgotten how deeply soothing it was to pray while his fingers rubbed the rubies embedded on the cross. His mind was less frantic and his spirits calmed. There was no harm in wearing it for a little while as he slept.

"Your turn," Porthos said, shaking Aramis' shoulder until he deigned open his eyes, confused at first then remembering where he was. His friend was already stripping off his weapons in order to go to bed. "I thought you'd lost _that_." Porthos motioned to the crucifix dangling around the other's neck. It was the lie invented when the Musketeers had commented on the Queen's gift missing from Aramis' attire.

"Well, it turns out I didn't. Considering what happened to me last time we went hunting with the King, some extra faith can only be good."

"I wonder what you'll break this time..."

"I sure hope you do not have some wager on that, Porthos..."

"You are a man of little faith, indeed! I would _never_ do such a thing!" His chuckling told his friend otherwise.

"Will you two fishwives shut up?" another soldier hissed, a boot landing just beside Porthos.

"You're welcome to sleep outside if you don't like it."

"Ssssshhhh!"

"Ssssshhhh yourself." Another boot flew their way, colliding with Porthos' legs. It only made him laugh more. This hunting trip would be more fun than last year. There were more Red Guards and they all knew this particular Musketeer particularly enjoyed messing with them.

Aramis was still shaking sleep from his body when he arrived near the King's bedchamber to keep watch. In the attempt to have the men get along better, Musketeers had to be paired with a Red Guard. Needless to say, the conversation was quite sparse between the two soldiers that night.

* * *

The second day of the journey passed in the same fashion as the first one. They were on the road quite early to take advantage of the rather cool morning air. The King still found things to complain about, especially because the road was a little damaged and it importuned him. It was a relief when the company finally reached Fontainebleau in the evening. It was decided that there would be no hunting the next day, as his Majesty wished to recover from the long travel he had just done. Moreover, there were details to discuss with the gamekeepers before going out in the woods.

All the guards had to be present at the meeting, Captain Tréville suggesting the less dangerous paths to use, combining them with the gamekeepers' advice on where they were more likely to find preys. It was a rather dull day, but it was not overly warm in the Palace, and the Musketeers were glad for some respite before they would have to be back on their horses again.

"When do you think the Queen will arrive?" the King asked Tréville as they were escorting him to the stables so he could inspect the horses.

"Athos will not make them go fast for the sake of your children, your Majesty. I believe you should be reunited tomorrow at the latest."

"Excellent! Now, which one of your Musketeers do you recommend to instruct the Dauphin on how to ride?"

"They would all be very capable, your Majesty. Aramis has always been a skilled teacher..."

The soldier stiffened a little behind his officer. Despite wanting to make sure that the heir would be safe, he could not help but dread the idea of spending so much time with him in public. For once, he was glad the King was so fond of him.

"That will not do. Monsieur Aramis is too much of a help when we are out hunting. He will accompany me every time."

"Very well. Then...Porthos is quite good with horses and teaching, I suppose."

The King turned around briefly, everybody else stopping in their tracks. Porthos stood very still as the royal gaze examined him. A wave of the hand settled it.

"If you say so. You!" Porthos stepped closed at the order, bowing. "You will be the Dauphin's instructor. One month should be enough to teach him how to hold himself on a pony."

"It will be an honour, your Majesty."

Aramis exhaled the breath he had been holding. Nothing would happen to the child if his friend remained close to him at all times.


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter XLIII

"What do you think will happen to me if some harm should befall the Dauphin?"

"You'll die?"

"God, thank you for the support." Porthos rolled his eyes at Aramis' proposition. "I am feeling so much better for it. Why did you have to recommend me?"

"Because you _are_ a good teacher. The two of you have been working wonders with my nephew and since his Majesty cannot bare to be separated from Aramis, there you are," the Captain replied.

"Athos would be more than capable to teach him."

"Please, Porthos, have you seen Athos? The poor child would be scared just by looking at his face. He never smiles."

"What? Because I have to smile as well?" Porthos exclaimed, his friend chuckling. The Captain shook his head at the two Musketeers' banter.

"It is preferable indeed. He's only a small child after all. Of course, if you find it too difficult and would prefer to trade your new position with the one of looking after the youngest prince, I will be more than happy to agree."

"Would that do?" Porthos demanded quickly, a large smile plastered to his face. "Anything but watching over sleeping babies. Please."

Aramis almost fell off the chair he was sitting on in the kitchen at the other's expression. It took all the Captain had not to grin at the soldier's expense.

"You better temper it, though, or he will have nightmares."

"Shut your mouth. My smile is delightful."

"Well, don't smile like this to your godson or his mother will slap your head for scaring him."

"You're the one afraid of your wife, not me."

"I have no clue what makes you come up with such ludicrous ideas."

"I only have to watch how you are often so well-disposed to obey her."

"Do I have a choice when upsetting her means I could be shoved out of my bed?"

"As if it never happened before."

"Not with Elise. I know how to keep my wife happy, thank you very much."

"Aramis!" the Captaine exclaimed. His face had taken on a light red colour. It was not a conversation he wanted to listen to.

"Sorry, Captain." His tone of voice said otherwise. Porthos hid his smirk in his glass of wine.

"I knew there was a reason why I did not eat with the lot of you at the Garrison."

"Still, here you are, stuck with us for at least a month!"

"Don't make me change my mind about the Dauphin, Porthos," Tréville threatened, standing up to seek a better place where he would not have to hear about his niece and her husband.

* * *

The next day, a rider arrived after noon to announce that the Queen's escort would make its appearance soon. It was still extremely hot outside and the King had not wanted to leave the cooling corridors of Fontainebleau to go hunting. Aramis hoped his Majesty's attitude would change rapidly because he would be quite angry to have come such a long way to merely stay indoors. Being so close and so far away from the Dauphin at the same time was not going to be an easy task as it was, so he did not need any more hardships during his stay.

It was the middle of the afternoon when the carriage was eventually spotted at the end of the large alley leading to the Palace entrance. Porthos could not complain about the sun in his face out loud since the guards and the Musketeers were standing too close to their monarch. Yet, his sighs were enough to have the Captain step closer and warn him to stop. Aramis was too nervous to have the strength to mock his friend. Luckily, his hat would hide whatever emotions could transpire on his face. His right hand was resting on his hip, close to the pocket where he kept his crucifix.

The King stood up from under his canopy when the carriage door opened, d'Artagnan holding out his hand to help the Queen out. She squinted to get her bearings and took the Dauphin's hand in her own as he was awkwardly stepping out. Aramis had not seen him since Saint-Germain. Whether it was the Queen seeking to offer some comfort or pure chance, he had not seen him at the Louvres in July either. Whatever the reason, he was grateful for it. The toddler appeared happy enough, looking over the place, a smile on his face. It reassured the soldier. It was all he needed to be content. He could not have cared less about the second baby, safely held by Marguerite. His feeling towards the heir's younger brother was simply a dutiful one, nothing else.

His Majesty offered his greetings after the Queen and her entourage had curtsied respectfully. She did not look at Aramis or any of the others as she walked past them, but he made a point of bowing as much as he could, his head so low he could not have seen it if she had glanced at him.

The four friends were happy to be reunited, all sharing news as they finally settled in the soldiers' quarters that night. As expected, d'Artagnan complained about Porthos being in charge of the Dauphin's riding instruction. Tréville silenced him quite quickly with the same threat he had uttered for Porthos. Guarding sleeping babies was a task the young Musketeer abhorred as much as his friend.

For the next weeks, Aramis was relieved to realize that avoiding the Queen and her first-born was as easy in the countryside as it was in Paris. The Palace was so big that since he did not try to meet with them on purpose, he could sometimes spend days without seeing one or the other. The King usually requested to set out hunting in the morning and the parties often lasted the entire day. It was no so hot in the woods after all, the trees and the heavy foliage offering a cool atmosphere.

When he did not miss his target, his Majesty could be quite amiable, even though the Musketeer was careful after what had happened to him the previous year, and never let the King's conversation distract him. It made no doubt that his traitors of friends had cast some wager on his possible injuries. The look on Porthos' face as he came back every night in one piece had been enough to convince him.

What really bothered Aramis was to be so far away from Elise and the baby. Of course, they had Christophe and Constance to keep them company. Still, it was not easy. There were many nights when he would lie in bed, unable to fall asleep as worry ate him up. A messenger came from Paris once a week to bring letters from the King's Council and the soldier took advantage of it to send a rather long message to his wife, telling her about what was happening in Fontainebleau, reassuring her that he was fine and inquiring about how she was doing. It was a joy when a reply arrived a week later. The others joked endlessly about how he would not stop reading it over and over, but it did not bother him. He could not be close to the child here on the grounds with him; he could at least remain close to his other one, even if only on paper.

It turned out that the Dauphin rather enjoyed being taught how to ride. Even when he was not out hunting with the King, Aramis made a point to be sent somewhere else so he would not have to escort the monarch if he wished to assist to the lessons. Athos, silent as always, still helped his friend in this enterprise. Not a word was spoken between them, none was required. The only news he received were from Porthos. The child seemed to be growing fond of him, calling him by his name without making any mistake, which had to be a first. Apparently, the heir was a talkative toddler, laughing and smiling through his lessons. It was wishful thinking from his Majesty to believe he would be able to hold the reins himself at only one year and a half, yet, if the teaching continued back in Paris, his instructor had not doubt that he would one day become a very skilled rider.

"Quite the opposite of his father, if you want my opinion", Porthos stated one evening as they were all lying down in the grass. The Red Guards crowded their quarters and any attempt to bring the two regiments closer had failed miserably.

_No. Quite like his real father actually_, Aramis thought bitterly.

* * *

One day, about a month after they had arrived at the Palace, a messenger brought a second letter to Aramis. He was excited and impatient to read it, his pace quickening in the long corridor. The King would be busy with affairs of state for a long time so he would not be missed. He could retire for a couple of hours before it occurred to his ruler that his favourite guard was not by his side. He was walking so fast that he did see who was coming in the other direction, his gaze focused on the sealed paper in his hand.

"Good Lord! Would you watch where...My apologies, your Majesty!" he exclaimed when he realized it was the Queen he had almost shoved to the ground. He bowed, taking off his hat. They had not spoken a word to each other in weeks, but she seemed happy to meet him by chance.

"There is no harm done, Aramis. You seemed quite in a hurry. I hope nothing is wrong."

"Everything is perfectly fine, do not fear. I've simply received a letter from my wife and I...I wanted to read it at once, which is selfish. Please, forgive me."

"I find it quite normal, on the contrary. It must be difficult to be far from her."

"Her Majesty is correct."

"Perhaps I could..."

"You should not worry so much about me, your Majesty," the Musketeer cut her off. He knew what she was going to suggest, and it would not do. It would not be said that he benefited from privileges because the Queen should not know that much about his private life in the first place. "My duty is here, keeping all of you safe."

"Very well. I thank you for your unwavering dedication. I was heading to the riding circle. Will you escort me?"

The question sounded innocent, the tone was as neutral as expected from the Queen, but he knew it aimed to please and bring joy to him. He would have loved to say yes, yet his senses were telling him to decline the offer. Aramis knew she would not have insisted and respected his choice. There were guards standing in the corridor, though; they had to have heard the conversation as they were the only two people talking in the quiet place. It would not do to turn down a direct order. It was not what was expected of a dutiful soldier. So he bowed again, taking one step to the side to give her room to resume walking.

They barely exchanged a word on their way outside, Aramis one step behind her as protocol required. She held her head high, her walk slow, slower than usual. For all their history, it felt odd to be so close and yet ignore each other.

"How is your wife?" she whispered when they reached the door opening on the gardens. There was nobody else around likely to eavesdrop on such a private question. If the Musketeer's hearing had not been sharp, he would have probably not heard her.

"She was fine when I left them. I should hope it has remained unchanged."

"She must be rather tired. It is such a luxury for me to have so many people at my service to help. Taking care of a newborn on her own, without you..."

The entourage and the servants of the royal couple may be numerous, it was a small world where everybody knew everything as soon as a news had been uttered publicly once. Aramis officially becoming a father was something well-known by now. Despite not having talked to her Majesty in weeks, it was not a surprise that she mentioned Elise's pregnancy. Moreover, they both knew Queen Anne had not forgotten one word of their last exchange in Saint-Germain, How could she forget anything that happened in the life of a person who was so dear and precious to her? Aramis used to be one of her only true friends, if not the only one she could freely speak to, how ever awkward and perilous their situation was.

"Elise is quite a strong and capable woman. I do wish I could be by her side to help, but since it is impossible, I comfort myself in her letters. And I pray God to keep them well."

It warmed the Queen's heart when he brought his hand up to the front of his uniform, absent-mindedly touching the crucifix that was there at the mention of the Lord.

"I will pray for her as well," she resolved.

"Her Majesty is too generous."

"May I inquire about your child's name?"

"His name is Mathieu, your Majesty. It was the name of my wife's late father," Aramis answered reluctantly. It was one thing for the Queen to know he was a father again, yet he would have preferred not to inform her that it was a boy. He was not mistaken when he supposed that it would worry her, as it worried him and Elise as well, even though they tried not to think too much about it.

"You have been blessed with a son, then..." _Another son. _The Queen could not help glancing at him, fear passing in her eyes. It disappeared too quickly for anyone else to see. They were coming close to where other guards were watching over the Dauphin. Porthos' loud voice was already filling the air. They would have to stop talking soon, but he could not leave her without reassuring her first.

"Yes, your Majesty. Even though it is too early to be absolutely sure of it, I do believe he will look quite like his mother, from the fair hair to the stubborn attitude to always have what he desires."

Queen Anne's smiled softly, although it did not entirely ease her tension.

"I believe my child will have the same attitude."

"A future King is never stubborn. It is others who are wrong in their opinions."

This time, the unexpected joke was enough to make her laugh. The sound was refreshing and comforting to Aramis, yet surprising, and he had to smile as well. She had laughed loudly enough for the heir to recognize his mother's voice. He was close to where the Queen and the soldier had stopped. He turned around on his little pony, hands extended toward her, Porthos catching him before he could even start sliding down the saddle.

"Maman!"

"Good morning, my dear."

"Your Majesty." Porthos gave a simple nod. Bowing would be too dangerous with the child so close. His friend was thankful for it. He could not have wished for a better protector for the heir. Aramis realized he was staring too openly, especially as he remembered the suspicions the other Musketeer used to have about his relationship with the Queen. On the other hand, the Dauphin was smiling and talking so fast in front of him that it would have been blasphemous to ignore him.

He doubted anyone could understand what seemed to be a lengthy explanation about his pony. The word "horse" came up too often to think otherwise. The rest was hardly understandable. Queen Anne listened intently, smiling and nodding from time to time, which led to the Musketeer smiling in spite of himself. It should have felt wrong to be so proud of the Dauphin, it was not his role. It did not stop him from doing it, until he noticed Porthos watching him intently, eyebrows raised.

What Aramis was doing was not proper behaviour, especially not so close to her Majesty. The Queen was so focused on her son she did not realize what was happening next to her. Swallowing hard, the soldier straightened his face before taking his leave. He gave the excuse of having to return to the King's side. He glanced briefly at the Queen after raising his head from his bow.

"Your Majesty." He wish he could have said more, but more was not required between them.


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter XLIV

_…__..I paid a visit to Constance on Monday. The weather is starting to grow milder in Paris so it was rather refreshing to breathe some fresh air. I think Mathieu appreciated his first trip in the streets. Would you believe that Monsieur Bonacieux did not even complain about Musketeers while I was at his house! It is doubtful it will last when you will all be back. Constance asked you to tell d'Artagnan that she sends "her love", and she blew a kiss. You do not have to deliver this affectionate touch, though. She would not want to find a rival in you! I wish you would have been here. Mathieu is growing up so fast. You will be amazed when you come back. He still is not sleeping very well, but he has taken your place in bed. Do not be jealous. I can only imagine how he must miss your singing. I know I do. Who would have thought my Musketeer could be such an excellent baby carer? _

_Christophe was here yesterday, with Paul. They are taking advantage of you being away to ransack the house. But you know how afraid of me he can be. I've threatened them with time alone with a wailing babe, which calmed them at once! Young boys can be such an hindrance sometimes. Will Mathieu become like them? I hope we can temper his spirits a little or I will spend many sleepless nights when he is older. _

_When will you be back? I miss you. I cannot wait to be in your arms again. The King has been enjoying your company for far too long already. Could you not tell him that it is my turn now? I love you. Elise._

Aramis finished reading the letter for the third time. The grin on his face spoke volume about how happy he was at the good news and the jokes in it. He could almost hear Elise's laughter as she wrote the words. His heart hurt a little when he realized his son was discovering the world without him. Hopefully, the King would soon tire of the countryside and decide to head back to the capital city. The soldier could not wait to be back home. He used to enjoy out of town missions because when they went peacefully, it was a good distraction. Now, it was merely a bother when they lasted for ages.

"Constance sends her love," he said, turning his head over to where d'Artagan was sitting, cleaning his boots. The young man was on his feet in a second. He would have snatched the piece of paper from his friend's hand if Aramis had not been quicker. He sat up on his campbed, the letter behind his back. "Easy there, lover boy."

"Did she say anything else?"

"She did suggest I give you a kiss but I am afraid you will have to wait to actually see her for this because my lips are not touching any part of you. Ever."

Athos stifled a laugh after d'Artagnan crunched up his face in disgust. Disappointed, yet still happy that there had been a message from Constance, he returned to his previous task.

The King was too busy today to consider going out in the woods so the soldiers were left idle for the afternoon. It was an appreciated change for most of them to be left alone for a few hours. Red Guards had been assigned to other rooms after tensions with the Musketeers had almost ended up in a gigantic fight in the gardens in the middle of the night. Nobody could have said what had started it, but alcohol surely had not helped matters. Captain Tréville had to be angry at them for good measure, but they all knew he did not mean it. They were not supposed to have wine in their quarters anymore, although Athos and Porthos always managed to smuggle some from the kitchen.

Aramis sighed, lying back down, the letter on his chest, his hands behind his head.

"Here. Take this," Athos demanded after a while. There had been too many sighs in the last minutes, and it was starting to annoy him. To distract his friend, he was holding out a glass of wine. Aramis took it gladly, his legs swinging to the side of the bed so he was sitting on the edge.

"Thank you."

"These letters make you moody, which is quite a sight, to be sure, but it is still deeply annoying."

"Then you finally know how we feel about you when you decide to spend nights on your own, drinking bottle after bottle." d'Artagnan did not see the dark look the older man shot him.

"Do you want your share or do you not?"

"Not in the middle of the afternoon! I still have some common sense."

"A shame. I am afraid we will be obligated to finish this fine bottle by ourselves, my friend."

"Such a shame." Aramis shook his head in unison with Athos, both openly mocking the other, who scowled at them. They were so focused on making fun of d'Artagnan that they barely realized Porthos had joined.

He slung his hat on his bed, then stood there in the middle of the room, looking like he was out of place. His hands rested on his hips.

"Finally! We thought you were going to spend the entire afternoon watching over the Dauphin, even as he slept!" Aramis exclaimed when he realized Porthos had returned.

"Wine?" Athos offered.

"I think I need it, yes."

"Did the King cornered you into having an _interesting_ talk about his son's many riding talents again?"

"I have not seen the King today," Porthos replied, barely sparing a glance for d'Artagnan. His gaze was riveted on his glass that was being filled and drank three more times, effectively finishing the bottle.

"That's a pity," Aramis complained. What better way to forget he was far from his wife and son than by drinking his sorrows in wine?

"Come with me and we'll find some more."

Porthos did not say another word before striding in the gardens, his friend in tow. Aramis whistled, pushing his hat on his head, and straightening his uniform. When they rounded the corner of the building, his friend stopped abruptly and turned around so they were face to face.

"Did you really think I would not notice?"

"What?"

"When you came this morning. Did you think I would not see?"

"See what?"

"I am tired of you taking me for an idiot, Aramis!" Porthos growled. He grabbed the other by the collar of his jacket, pushing him against the wall of the building. Their faces were so close, all Aramis could see was the fury in his friend's eyes.

"I honestly have no idea what you are raging about. I haven't done anything this morning except receiving a letter from Elise and escorting the Queen to..."

His heart might actually have stopped beating for a couple of seconds as soon as he realized what Porthos was confronting him about. He was pushed once more against the wall, the other's knuckles turning white from clutching the leather jacket too tight.

"Escorting _the Queen_ to see _the Dauphin_, exactly. All these weeks, I thought I was imagining things. I want to be imagining things. Tell me I am imagining things, the smile, the eyes. Tell me you're not _that_ stupid."

Aramis' brain was scrambling to come back with a realistic and believable enough answer that could satisfy his friend's suspicion. He should have been aware that Porthos spending almost entire days with the heir could only lead to such a result. They knew each other too well. He had been so blinded by his unhappiness at missing his family and by his efforts to avoid the royal toddler that it had not crossed his mind that the other Musketeer was too smart to remain clueless.

"I can explain..."

"God damn you, Aramis!" Porthos' fist collided with the other's jaw, his head hitting the brick wall hard. His hat fell to the ground, his vision became blurry, and he felt blood drip on his lips. Too stunned to get his bearings, Aramis started to slide inelegantly to the ground. He would have ended up in the grass if his friend's grip on his uniform had not been so strong.

"I wanted to trust you back in the winter. I really did. How could you be so foolish?"

"It's complicated..."

"No, it isn't. She's the Queen! _The Queen_!"

"Don't you think I know it? Porthos, let me explain..."

"I don't want to listen to your nonsense! You disgust me, Aramis. You strut around the place, boasting about how you have changed, how you are so content to be married, and you...How can you do that to Elise? I will not let you ruin her life! She's ….."

His words were lost against Aramis' fist as he was hit straight in the nose. Reeling backwards, Porthos let go of his hold on the other who took advantage of the situation to deliver another blow to the side of the head. His senses had not all returned, there were bright spots of light in front of his eyes, whereas Porthos was faster in regaining his composure. He grabbed Aramis' hand, twisting it until there was a cry of pain.

Attempting to break free, he pushed one of his legs between Porthos' until they both tumbled to the ground. They started exchanging blows, not looking at what part they were hitting. They were so angry at each other that it did not matter. All that mattered was to hurt the other.

"You need to listen to me, Porthos!"

"To hear more lies? No, I think not!" There was a yelp as a foot pressed on the back of a knee, bending it. Aramis struggled to breathe, his hand pushing against the other's chin to stop him from speaking.

"It's only happened the one time, I swear."

"Liar! How can I trust you? Ouch!" Porthos hit him in the stomach in retaliation to Aramis' fingers slipping and poking him in the eye.

"If you don't, ask Athos! He's been following me like a shadow ever since it happened!"

"You told Athos and not me?" Porthos growled again, this time more hurt in knowing that the older Musketeer had known what was going on while he was left in the dark.

"I would not have, but he was there! He walked on us after that night."

"Why do you continue to wear _that_ if you are so adamant that any connection has ceased?"

Somehow, blows had lessened at the mention of Athos' name. Porthos had the upper hand, though. The other was lying on the ground, effectively kept in place by the weight of his opponent sitting on his chest. He felt him tug on the Queen's crucifix.

"She gave it to me months before _it_ happened. I tried to stop carrying it, but..."

"How do you expect me to believe you when I know you've been lying to us all this time?"

"I was protecting you, you idiot! What do you think will happen to you if they ever find out?"

"I can take care of myself. But you...They'll hang you for your stupidity. How could you be so stupid?" The question was asked again, even though Aramis knew no answer would satisfy his friend. "For once, _for once_, you could have tried to refrain from giving in to your impossible urges, don't you think?"

"I've heard all of this before, Porthos. Nothing you can say will change what has been done. Let me go."

"This isn't over!" Porthos grabbed Aramis' fists as the latter reached up to take hold of his head. They rolled once more, kicking, until they collided with a nearby fountain. The shock made Porthos gasp and catch his breath. Aramis broke free, scrambling to his feet, soon followed by the other.

"I suggest we continue this discussion when we are both calmer."

"Oh no, you don't!" Aramis had started to walk away, but his friend did not share this view of the situation. He grabbed him from behind, securing his arm beneath the other's throat. The Musketeer gargled, fighting to loosen the pressure. Pushing back with all his strength, he managed to make Porthos move backwards. Too much actually, as his legs soon hit the fountain. His reflexes were not enough to prevent them from falling backwards into the square pond.

There was a cracking noise as Porthos' head hit the bottom, curses escaping his mouth. Aramis struggled to stand up, his uniform soaked, water only up to his feet. He desired only one thing, to make his friend see his side of the story, to explain that he was not having an affair with the Queen, that he was not being unfaithful. It was a thought that sickened him now, when it would have sounded like routine for him a few years ago. What frightened him more at present was to lose Porthos' friendship. The latter was too enraged to listen properly.

"Are you hurt?" Aramis inquired when his friend groaned but did not rise.

"Why do you care?"

"When have I not? You are my friend."

"Am I? You have a strange way of showing it."

"You're the one who started fighting."

"I'm not the one who committed treason. Who is committing treason even now." Porthos spit the words, their sting worse than any blow Aramis had received.

"I am not the Queen's _lover_. I swear. I love Elise too much to do that to her."

Porthos slowly opened his eyes, his friend looming above him, a hand extended to help him up. Squinting, he chose to accept it. His head hurt terribly from the sudden move, and when he rubbed the back of his skull, his fingers came back slightly red. He groaned once more.

"He's the heir to the throne."

"I know."

"He's _your son_."

"For a time, I fancied he could be, even if only behind closed doors but no, he's not. He cannot be. It's become too dangerous." Aramis' face fell at his words. It was harder than he imagined to utter the painful truth out loud.

"But he is, though. He's not the King's."

"Correct."

"It has trouble spelt all over it, Aramis."

"I am aware. I've been letting them go, Porthos. I still am. It was easier with the Queen because I have Elise, but him...You cannot imagine how heartbreaking it is."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Didn't you listen?"

"I was too busy bashing your face." The corner of Porthos' mouth rose faintly. It could almost have been mistaken for a grin if he had not been overwhelmed by anger.

"We believed it was safer for you to stay in the dark. Don't you see what would happen to all of us if someone with less honourable intentions came to uncover the truth?"

"You should have told me anyway. Since when do we keep this sort of secrets from each other?"

"Have we ever had a secret topping this one?"

"Leave it to you to put yourself in such a perilous situation. Seriously, Aramis. I wish I had known earlier. Simply to punch some sense in your face."

"Trust me, Athos has done his fair share. So has Elise. Although hers were more slaps."

"You deserve more."

"Didn't you just make this clear enough?"

"I could have done worse. I still can. Swear one more time. Swear it's over."

"You've already given you my word. What more do you require?"

"You swore back in the winter, and you were lying then."

"Half-lying."

"Nevertheless. Swear it on something that matters."

"Porthos...Very well. On my son, I swear it on my son...On Mathieu," Aramis added quickly. "And can I trust you?"

His friend rolled his eyes, wincing at pain shot behind his eyes.

"I will not be responsible for your death, if this is what you are asking. You're still my brother, I suppose, despite keeping things from me."

"Are you mad at me?"

"Haven't I made this obvious?" Blood was drying on his hands, a mixture of both his and his friend's. The right side of his face hurt terribly. Aramis was hurting almost as much. His nose was still bleeding, he could feel his upper lip swelling, he could barely put his weight on his left leg, and when he shook his right hand, it made him wince.

"I'm more mad at you not trusting me enough to let me in, though. What you've done is done. But hiding the truth, that is not something easily forgiven, Aramis."

Porthos limped away, not giving the other Musketeer a chance to apologise. He had been doing it already, and he was not sure saying it again would be more effective. Aramis shared Portho's fury. He did not want to lose his friend, yet, he failed to see how he could make it up to him. It was terrible how one action done such a long time ago could still have this kind of repercussion.

"Let me at least look at your injury!"

Porthos did not stop walking, not even turning around. He merely shook his head to signify that he did not need any help. At least not from him.


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter XLV

Aramis had retreated to the outskirts of the forest after his fight with Porthos. He had no intention to join the others again as he was too angry at himself. It was bad enough that he might have lost his best friend's trust, but he did not want to lie to d'Artagnan today. The young man could still be kept in the dark. It would be less difficult to hide the secret from him.

The Musketeer was sitting on the ground, his back against a tree, and one of the many reasons why he was not moving was that he was too much aware of the pain it would trigger. There had been nothing graceful in the manner he had sat down, all but collapsing on the dirt. His head was pounding, both from the beating he had received, and from his thoughts. Despite wanting to apologise again, he held on to the idea that he had been helping Porthos by hiding the truth. Aramis would not ask forgiveness for this. He was willing to ask it for his behaviour with the Queen, something that he had done repeatedly in the past, because he deserved it. He deserved all the insults and the curses since it could destroy so many lives.

Perhaps if he gave Porthos some space, the other would come to understand his attitude. His friend was quick-tempered, which also explained why he had hit Aramis so much: Porthos reacted with violence to unexpected situations.

It was all Aramis' fault in the end. It should have been obvious that the other Musketeer would uncover the truth. After all, his parents both knew that the Dauphin looked too much like his father for their own good. Did it mean Aramis would have to avoid him completely? Did it mean he would have to stop going on missions with the royal family? Did it mean he would have to stop working at the Palace? Did it mean he would have to leave the Musketeers?

The mere idea made him groan with disgust, a sound which increased when he heard footsteps coming towards him.

"Captain Tréville is looking for you. The King needs to go back to Paris as soon as possible and you and I will be leaving with him."

Aramis grunted to signify he had heard the order, the brim of his hat hiding his face from Athos. It was the only good news that had come out of today, apart from Elise's letter. It would be a relief to be back at his wife's side, to hold his son in his arms, and to distance himself from the royal family, at least more than he could do it in Fontainebleau.

"Aren't you coming?" Another grunt was all the answer Athos received. His friend had no intention to stand up or approach their quarters any tine soon. He continued to sharpen the wood stick with his knife. "It was not a request, Aramis. The Captain needs us _now_."

He eventually knelt by his side when it became obvious that nothing he could say would make his friend move.

"You should be excited to see Elise again instead of being all moody out there...Ah." Athos stopped speaking once Aramis had turned his head, glaring, and he saw how dark and blue his face was slowly becoming. "I take it Porthos did not engage in a fight with 'an arrogant Red Guard', then."

"He knows."

"And I suppose he wasn't happy about it."

"Obviously. He hates me."

"Looking at your face I would say he must be angry, but isn't hate too strong a word?"

"He does, though."

"Give him time and he'll come around. I have, so he will. Now, come on or we'll be assigned the basest duties."

Athos stood up, holding out his hand for the other to grab. Aramis winced as his groggy muscles stretched. He was limping on the way to the Palace.

"He hates me for not telling him, Athos," the Musketeer eventually confessed. He was in so much pain that he could barely keep his eyes open. It was a good thing he knew his way around the grounds. Porthos had to be suffering as well, wherever he was. He was not looking forward to waking up in the morning. It would be torture.

Athos glanced at him. It was a reaction he had expected from the third soldier if he should one day learn what had happened with the Queen. Despite how much he used to resent Aramis for his actions, the past few months had seen a drastic change in his attitude. The older Musketeer felt like he would soon no longer have to warn him about dreadful consequences, which was a welcomed improvement. He could almost feel the pain irradiating from his friend's body.

"You're his best friend and you know how heartily Porthos takes matters. Let him be for a couple of days and it will pass."

"I hope so," Aramis muttered, although he strongly doubted it.

* * *

The King headed back to Paris two days later with his escort. These two days stretched forever for Aramis. Porthos avoided him at all costs, not even looking at him when they would meet by chance or in the evening as they still had to share the same sleeping quarters. It was a small comfort to realize his friend was not seriously injured from their fall in the fountain. Yet, it was the only comfort Aramis could hold on to. He knew he deserved the dark looks and the ignorant attitude adopted by Porthos.

D'Artagnan had inquired about the problem his friends seemed to be having, considering the pitiful state of their bodies; he was quickly rebuked by both of them for even asking, Athos thankfully covering then with a made-up excuse about Red Guards. They doubted it was believed, but the youngest man eventually gave up trying to figure out what was wrong. His thoughts were easily distracted by the prospect of being reunited with Constance.

Porthos was the only one of them staying behind in Fontainebleau. The Queen enjoyed the countryside so she wished to remain a little bit longer with her sons. The Dauphin had grown fond of the Musketeer and his mother wanted the soldier to continue his instruction for a while. Aramis had noticed how his body stiffened when the Captain informed them of this decision. On the one hand, he was glad for the respite it would both give them. Time apart may ease the tension between them. On the other hand, he could not help but worry that now that he knew, Porthos might change his attitude towards the heir and the Queen. He chastised himself at once for having this thought. His friend would never betray him, even if he resented him with all his heart.

It was raining lightly when they entered the Louvres. His Majesty had been displeased to have to shorten his hunting trip but matters of state had to be dealt with. They could always go back to the countryside in a few weeks, perhaps even try to visit Versailles to see how the hunting lodge now looked since the renovation was almost over. The Musketeers all hoped this project would not be scheduled any time too soon. They enjoyed the busy life of Paris, the taverns and the excitement too much.

After the King was safely inside the Palace, the soldiers went back to the Garrison, scattering around. Some tended to their horses, others retreated to their rooms for some well-deserved rest.

Aramis was checking his face in a small mirror in the armoury after they had stripped of their weapons. Four days had coloured his battered cheeks, eyes, and lips different shades of purple and yellow, which had been enough for the Captain to shout at him because was it really how a King's Musketeer should look like while escorting his Majesty back to Paris? At least he was not limping anymore.

"You look delightful. No doubt that Elise will appreciate the change!" d'Artagnan joked. His friend glared at him.

"Unless you want to resemble him, I suggest you refrain from this type of comments for some time," Athos warned the younger man. Aramis must have been thinking so loud that his feelings had managed to show on his face, among the many bruises. "I'm headed outside. Are you coming?"

"Is it how you rest from such a long and tiresome journey?"

"Since when are you tired from long journeys, d'Artagnan? And in case you have not noticed, it is not afternoon: it's early evening. A perfectly appropriate time to drink, according to your standards."

"You are absolutely right. It'd be a shame if I did not stand up to my honourable reputation!"

He clasped Athos' shoulder on their way out. The rain did not bother them as they walked in the street, looking for a tavern which would not be overly crowded.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Aramis decided when they were about to enter a shady building. Even though drinking with his friends sounded like a happy activity, his mind was not into it. There was somewhere else he would enjoy himself more completely.

"Won't you stay for one drink at least? To celebrate being back in such a lively city?"

"I can easily imagine other ways to celebrate tonight, if you must know."

d'Artagnan snorted, which made his friend grin. The young man was so oblivious and carefree. On his way home, Aramis wondered what would happen to the four of them if Porthos could not overcome his resentment. Would he have to lose his best friends for the sake of their protection? They had been a part of his life for so long that imagining what it would be like without them was impossible.

The front door creaked loudly when he opened it. The house was silent for a few seconds before he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Then, there was a blur of fabric until Elise was buried in his arms, her head on his chest, her arms on his back, her hair tickling his chin. It felt so good to have her close that he could not say anything. All he could do was hug her back, his hands rubbing her shoulders and her sides, as he inhaled her perfume. He was squeezing her with so much strength, it worried him that he could hurt her, but she was not complaining.

Elise raised her head after a while, her eyes growing wide when she saw how her husband looked. He silenced the upcoming questions with his lips, pushing against her mouth until she gave in. One hand in her hair, his hat falling to the floor, one hand on the back of his neck as she tiptoed to be on his level.

"What..."

"Not now."

"Were you..."

"I said not now, Elise," Aramis growled, his teeth grazing her lips. Elise stopped trying to ask, the questions put on the back of her mind until she found a better time to inquire. Somehow, she had walked backwards so she was stuck between a wall and the soldier. The hand which was not on her hair was busy unlacing her corset. She sighed as Aramis' mouth left hers to focus on her neck and the bare skin of her shoulders. She had missed how his beard felt against her body. It usually tickled her when he kissed her scar. Tonight, she was too excited to be in his arms after so long to feel anything else but pleasure.

"Where's Mathieu?"

"Sleeping. I've just fed him."

Elise was breathing fast once Aramis had finished kissing her one more time. Her corset had come loose and she ended what he had started, letting it fall to the floor. Her fingers trembled as she worked on his jacket until it was discarded to the side as well. They were usually more talkative when they saw each other after a mission had separated them. It was not hard to feel the desperation and need behind his actions, though. One month was a very long time for Elise as well, and she gladly welcomed the attention.

"He's in here," Elise said as Aramis was about to push their bedroom door open. Instead, she tugged on his hand to lead him to the second bedroom. He let her take off his braces and his shirt, too focused on gazing at her face and her smile. His eyes closed by themselves when she brushed her fingers on his chest. There were bruises there as well, albeit less visible than on his face, and less painful. His entire body shuddered when she leaned forward to kiss each of the sore spots.

"Someone's eager." Elise giggled after Aramis had secured her hands in his to push her down gently on the bed.

"I've missed you."

"I can see that."

She twined her hands behind his neck, bringing his face close to her own. It felt wonderful to have him so close to her again, however battered he was. It was not the worst state she had seen him in.

"I've missed you, too."

"I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere any time soon."

"Excellent." Her smile reminded him of the many reasons why he was fortunate to be part of her life. A year ago, when he had made the decision to marry her, Aramis had vowed to make her life the best one possible, and to ease the pain the loss of her parents had caused. Seeing her eyes twinkle as he bent down to kiss her, hearing her sighs as he moved his hands under her dress, he knew he could live with only these things to power him through the days.

"What is it?" she asked once he had pushed the garment up her chest and Elise had taken it off. She was blowing on a lock of hair which had fallen on her eyes when she noticed how he was staring at her.

"I've never seen a nursing woman naked in my life," the soldier answered, his voice full of wonder. Her skin tingled with goosebumps, his fingers grazing the side of her breasts almost religiously. The young woman laughed again.

"For all I know about your past, it is nice to know you can still be amazed."

He did not need more than his lips on her left breast to silence her. Elise moaned too loudly, forgetting for a second that she had to be quiet or the baby would wake up on the other side of the door. Aramis put both hands on her hips, her skin so soft and fitting so perfectly against his. It might have bothered others, but he welcomed the warmth feel of breast milk in his mouth, smiling contently as he looked up at his wife.

"You taste good. But you always have..."

He grinned at her flushed face and her half-closed eyelids, his lips kissing the hollow space between her two breasts before peppering kisses on her stomach. He was overwhelmed by need, want, and desire. All his troubles had fled his mind to be solely replaced by his beautiful wife. No decision should ever be made in times like these, but Aramis could clearly see what his future held for him in this moment, and as Elise's hands grabbed his hair, he knew he would be absolutely content with it.


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter XLVI

Aramis woke up to soft cries becoming louder and louder the more he tried to ignore them. The room was still dark, it was too early to be properly called morning. Groaning, he rolled on his side, the bed sinking underneath him as Elise stood up. Being away in Fontainebleau had managed to make him forget what it was like to be awaken by a fussy or hungry baby. He would never complain about how uncomfortable sleeping on a campbed could be again.

There was no point in trying to fall asleep now, not until his son had settled. The Musketeer dressed hastily donning a shirt before crossing the corridor to join his wife. One month was a long time for a baby, and Aramis stood in awe in the doorway when he realized how much the child had grown while he was away. He was still crying his lungs out as he used to be, still eating as hungrily as he used to, but he looked taller in his mother's arms. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, stifling a yawn to concentrate on Elise's lulling voice.

"Look who is back, Mathieu," she whispered once the baby seemed to have had enough and instead was looking at her with big eyes. She looked as sleepy as Aramis was, but there was a smile on her face as she walked close to him. "_Papa_'s back."

His heart would never tire of being called this way and he knew it would be years before he could manage to smile less at the mention of his new title. Besides, when Mathieu would actually be the one using it, it would be impossible to hide the pride and joy.

The baby barely fussed when he was passed from his mother to his father. The soldier held him close to his chest, taking in all the small changes he could notice. It was not long before he was rocking the child back to sleep, his lips humming softly until Spanish words filled the room, much to Elise's delight.

"I have missed _that_."

"You should have told me before. I could have sung to you even when he was not born."

"It would have helped if I had known you could sing."

"Ah, well, it is not something I could do at the Garrison without being mocked for it."

"I guess not."

Aramis resumed his soft singing until the baby's eyes closed completely and his breathing grew steady. Even then, he did not let go. The small weight in his arms felt good, he had missed it, so he was not ready to be deprived of it yet. Focused on his son's features, he winced in spite of himself when Elise's put her arms around his waist, squeezing his side where Porthos had hit him. It was one of the blows that had been more powerful than the others and it still hurt.

"Can I ask what happened, now?" Aramis sighed heavily because even though he wished to delay the conversation to a more appropriate time that would not spoil his happiness at being reunited with his family, he was aware such a moment would never happen unless provoked. He gazed down at Elise. He saw the worry in her eyes and hated himself for being the one responsible for it.

"Porthos figured it out. About the Dauphin."

"What happened?"

"You must believe me when I say that I stayed true to my word and did not seek to see him."

"I trust you."

"But...Porthos has been spending so much time with the child, teaching him how to ride. I should have known he would come to understand it all."

Elise's body was shaking next to him, despite her best attempts at staying calm. Careful not to squash the baby, Aramis put his arm around her to hug her close.

"He will not say anything. We're family and we will protect each other no matter what. You do not have to worry about that."

"Is he the reason you look like you do?" She felt him nod against her shoulder.

"You should see what state he's in."

"What got into you? You are supposed to fight side by side, not one against the other."

"He's more furious at me for hiding the truth than for what actually happened, and I have no idea how to fix _this_."

Although she could not see him, she heard the despair and pain in his voice. Stepping back from his embrace, she grabbed his face with both hands, forcing him to look at her. No matter what Aramis said, that his three friends were like his brothers, there would always be one of more importance to him. It seemed that this one was holding a great grudge against her husband. She would comfort her beloved Musketeer because she hated to see him suffer, but it also sickened her to realize that Porthos was right in being angry at Aramis. Elise had had months to see how close they both were, brothers by friendship if not by flesh and blood.

"I was angry at you as well, do you remember? He will not stay mad at you for too long. You said it yourself, you are family. He would miss you too much, much like you do. And if he doesn't, I'll make a scene."

The last comment made Aramis chuckle, his chest vibrating and the baby making a small noise at the disturbance. Elise tiptoed to kiss her husband's cheek then her son's. There was a quiet moment between them, and gazing at his wife, Aramis could see that she was right. She was too stubborn to let his friendship with Porthos go to waste, even if she somehow had to agree with the other Musketeer. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

"I've made a decision", he eventually said.

"Should you even make decisions when you feel so troubled?"

"I probably shouldn't. Nevertheless, I don't want to be assigned to the Palace anymore."

It cost him to utter the words out loud. There was this slight fear that if he did not voice his decision, his resolve would dissolve. If he could only know that the Dauphin was fine by gathering news from his friends whenever they would see him, he could manage to be content with the situation. The child in his arms was everything he needed. Besides, loving him would trigger no danger.

"You know how much I would appreciate it, especially for him," Elise breathed out, her fingers smoothing the hair on her son's head. "Would the King allow it, though? He is quite attached to you, after all."

"I've yet to talk to your uncle. Perhaps I can convince him to let me train young recruits or give me mainly out-of-town missions. If I never refuse hunting trips, his Majesty might allow it. After all, he praises my skills so much that he could not argue if I decided to put them to the excellent use of training the next generation of his Musketeers."

"Will it make you happy?"

"I think I could be rather content, yes. I would still have the opportunity to fight, and I would not put the two of you in danger anymore. It would be the perfect compromise."

"Let's hope the King agrees with you, because believe me, I would like nothing more. You should take some more time to think about it, though."

"I've been thinking about it for the past days."

"Still. You should sleep on it, simply to be completely certain it is what you want."

"Are you saying this because you mean it or because I've been yawning ever since he woke us up?"

"...Both." Elise grinned and Aramis laughed. Despite the importance of the conversation, he could feel his eyelids close against his will. He fell asleep soon after, his wife's body pressed against him, his son in his crib, but so close to the bed that he could still touch him.

* * *

Captain Tréville raised a quizzical eyebrow at Aramis' request when it was made. The soldier never complained about keeping watch at the Palace before, unlike other Musketeers. Aramis could not explain to his commanding officer why he was making this decision, so he had had to come up with lies. There were so many lies accumulating lately that he hoped these would be the last ones he would have to invent. Wanting to look out after Christophe for Elise was the main one, because it was potentially the one Tréville would be more receptive to. The Captain had always said that Aramis was an excellent teacher and as long as he was willing to carry on all his other missions without complaining, his commanding officer did not see why he would go against his wish. Convincing the King proved to be more complicated.

"Your talents would be wasted if you stayed at the Garrison," he stated a few days later after Aramis and Tréville had asked for an official audience.

"I can assure his Majesty that Aramis is one the most fitted trainers I have ever been given to command. Your future recruits would be fortunate to benefit from his advice."

"Even so, Tréville. Monsieur Aramis has more to do here with us." It seemed that he had hardly listened to the Captain's argument, swatting his hand to show that he did not care about it. "Besides, we intend to go to the countryside very soon, whenever these matters are dealt with." The King shot an annoyed glance in the direction of his Council's members in attendance. "It would displease us to have to do so without you."

"His Majesty can be assured that wherever he will go, I will gladly accompany him. My brother-in-law is on the right path to become a good soldier so I would hate to abandon him in such an important moment." Aramis bowed once more, hoping the lie would be convincing enough.

"Are you saying that your family is more important than your king?"

"Absolutely not, sire. I merely wanted to express that it would be a great honour to teach such valuable men how to keep his Majesty safe at all times." Aramis bit the inside of his cheek. Louis XIII had to understand the Musketeer was doing this with his best interests in mind. This time, the explanation appeared to make some impact on the monarch.

"Monsieur Aramis is a great fighter, indeed. You may be correct in your judgement, Captain. I suppose we could agree to him being stationed at the Musketeer Garrison as long as he is ready to report to our side whenever it is needed."

"His priority will always be to readily stand by your side whenever you require it. I can assure you that I will look out for it."

"As it should be expected from my Musketeers."

Aramis and Tréville curtsied as soon as they understood that the King was willing to comply with the Musketeer's demand. His heart was lighter when they stepped outside in the gardens. It was almost autumn, the weather was growing unstable, the sky was becoming full of heavy clouds, and the temperature was not as unbearable as it used to be a couple of months ago. It may be long before he could walk in these alleys again.

"Never mind the reason why you have asked such a favour as long as it makes Elise happy."

"It does, Captain. I swear it is only for her sake that I'm doing it."

"Don't expect to receive more special treatments such as being allowed to report late at the barracks."

Aramis took off his hat and brought it to his chest, as if offended by such an idea.

"I would _not_ dream of it!"

Tréville glared at the soldier, annoyed by the cheeky attitude. He would never change. On the other hand, he was glad to see how much Aramis had changed in the past year, and he could not help but wonder how much his niece had contributed to it. No matter how dramatic their first meeting had been, some good had come out of it, and the officer could not thank God enough for it.

Training Christophe and the others would have to suffice. Aramis knew it would take some time before he would truly be satisfied with it. He was still grieving the loss of the Dauphin, but forcing himself to step aside for the well-being of his family was all the motivation he needed. He could not afford to be selfish anymore. Elise reminded him of it every night he came home from his duties.

* * *

The remainder of September passed under heavy rain. Summer was definitely over and the hunting trip his Majesty had hoped would be possible had to be postponed to an undecided date. None of the Musketeers felt sorry about it. Athos did not comment on Aramis' latest decision, but his looks said he approved of it. D'Artagnan supposed it meant he would be assigned to more dangerous missions that his friend could not cover if he had to stay with the recruits. It seemed to be a rather pleasing prospect for him.

The three Musketeers were having dinner with Elise one night in late September. The baby was sleeping upstairs, and Constance had joined them as well. Her friend's son was her newly-found excuse to escape Monsieur Bonacieux as much as she could. If incidentally it meant that she could spend more time with d'Artagnan, then, it was only an agreeable coincidence.

"When do you suppose we became their accomplices?" Elise asked her husband after the two lovers had disappeared in the kitchen for too long. They could hear occasional giggles and none of the others wished to go see what was happening in the other room. Aramis and Athos both shrugged at the question, in perfect synchronization.

"I mean, they do what they please, but it's not very good for her reputation." Elise scowled, more worried about this than by her friend's actions. The men shrugged again.

"She does not worry about it. You should not either. It's been going on for so long anyway, that if she had wanted it to stop, Constance would have done so by now."

"Don't you know that socializing with Musketeers can often render your behaviour quite questionable?" Athos' question was purely rhetorical. Elise, of all people, knew it was true. Musketeers did not have the best life conduct, and people close to them tended to take on some of their bad habits. She did not mind too much and Constance was well past questioning the morality of what she was doing.

"As long as you don't follow her example and find some other man than your husband..." Aramis' unvoiced threat combined that his grin made her laugh out loud.

"How could such an idea even cross my mind?"

Elise leaned over to kiss his cheek, glad to see he was smiling more and more these days. Athos busied himself with his food, washing it down with wine. He may be happy to see that his friend seemed to be finally settling down completely in his new life without the Dauphin being a part of it, yet it still hurt to see the married couple so content in each other's company. There was a knock on the front door, and despite not being the host, he stood up to open it.

"Have I been gone for so long for things to change so dramatically? Do you live here as well now?"

Aramis straightened up, his body tensing when he heard Porthos' voice. His friend shook off the rain from his hat and his clothes as he stepped inside, Athos muttering something inaudible. Porthos' eyes found the owner of the house in a second, boring a hole in his face. There was still anger in them, and the soldier wondered if he had come in only to fight again. The four of them stayed silent, Elise wishing they would not hit each other again, Athos ready to pounce on the first one who appeared to look belligerent.

"I brought more wine. 'didn't want to arrive empty-handed," Porths eventually said, holding out the bottle to the young woman.

"Thank you. It's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you, too. How's the baby?"

"Very well."

There was an awkward silence again after she had put the bottle on the table. The only sounds they could hear were Constance's giggles and d'Artagnan's sweet words. Aramis had stood up to stand by Elise's side.

"Will you stay for dinner?" Porthos rolled his eyes at his friend's question.

"Why do you think I brought alcohol for? I'm not going to sit by and watch you drink it by yourself. The countryside was a bore without the lot of you. I need to erase it from my memories."

"How many Red Guards survived your boredom?"

"Much to my surprise, all of them."

"You are growing soft. The old you would have sent a couple to the surgeon."

"The old me did punch three or four after I was accused of cheating."

"A false accusation, of course."

"What do you think?"

"That you most certainly deserved it."

"Yeah, well, so did you."

The look was stern and the words bitter. They all knew they were not talking about Red Guards anymore.

"I know."

"Idiot."

"Cheat."

Elise was startled when all of a sudden, the two men stopped insulting one another to share a quick but powerful hug. Aramis was as surprised, he had not expected this turn of event.

"No more secrets or this time, I swear I'll rip you apart."

"I'll probably let you do it."

"Good."

Porthos clasped the Musketeer's shoulder, smiling broadly. Then he looked around, rubbing his hands.

"Are we all going to stare or are we going to actually eat something? D'Artagnan take your hands from under Constance's skirts and get in here!" he shouted, Elise wincing. It was only seconds before wailing was heard from upstairs. Aramis sighed, shooting an annoyed look at the culprit who at least had the decency to look sorry.

"Ooooops. Sorry."

The young woman left the men to themselves, disappearing to calm her son. Aramis was still gazing at his friend as he settled at the table, piling food on his plate.

"What are you staring at? Have you never seen me before?"

"Are we good?"

"Of course we're good. You're a fool and I promise I will go through with my threat, but you're my brother."

Athos gave him a look that probably meant "I told you so" and Aramis' heart was suddenly lighter than it had been in months. His best friend seemed to have forgiven him, his wife was upstairs taking care of his son, all his closest friends were around, making quite an odd but reliable family. As d'Artagnan and Constance joined the three Musketeers at the table, he could see that his life would be quite fine, despite having let go of the Dauphin. He had come to realize it was a small prize to pay to truly enjoy happiness; a consequence he was now willing to accept to live a serene life, as serene as a soldier life could be.

* * *

This ends this *little* story. I have to end it somewhere or the only other course possible would be for someone else to discover Aramis' secret and I don't want to break your heart as much as the last episodes of Season 2 are doing it.

I enjoyed writing this story and I hope you enjoyed reading it as well!


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